


keep it quiet

by onewingedbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Ramsay is His Own Warning, one-sided Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onewingedbird/pseuds/onewingedbird
Summary: Neither Sansa nor Jon has a choice in this arrangement. It's expected of them. Getting married will keep their families safe, their territories secure, but Jon has something more in mind.





	1. And the Bride Goes to...

****Sansa Stark's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

 

Her father, Ned, sat across the dining room table enjoying his dinner unaware or unconcerned with her emotional turmoil. He finished his bowl of stew without looking up at her once. It was only when he'd motioned to the cook for the next course that he'd noticed Sansa had still not finished her supper. He cocked an eyebrow as he watched her. The surprise had long faded from her features replaced by a quiet passivity. He'd been brokering this deal for over a year. He would have hoped she'd be more excited than this, grateful even. He eased back in his chair and waited for her to speak.

 

Sansa could feel her father's eyes on her now. She took a deep breath through her nose and fought to keep her face impassive. If he knew how much this "business venture" frightened her, he would only make his lessons that much more difficult, stressing the importance of her role in securing the safety of their family. Since she was three years old, Ned had groomed her to become someone's future wife. It only followed that one day, she'd be betrothed, and that day had come. She'd been sold to the highest bidder in her father's business. She nudged her stew with her spoon. She wondered absently how much she had cost her new husband. She hoped he wasn't the kind of husband who would never make her forget the price he'd paid for her. She shuddered internally. Gently, she set her spoon down.

 

"I'd like to go for a drive, if that's alright," she told Ned.

 

"That's fine," he said after a moment. With a wave of his hand, he summoned Sandor and Brienne, Sansa's usual guards.

 

Sansa met her father's eyes for a moment, deciding whether or not to argue. She needed time alone to process. He stared back at her with a beckoning smirk; her slightly parted mouth closed. She nodded and walked out of the lavish dining room toward the garage. She stopped at the entrance with a hand on the doorframe. She turned, and her guards, who had flanked her, moved to the side.

 

"Thank you, Ned, for setting this up," she said.

 

She slid into the backseat of the SUV and waited for Sandor or Brienne to get the driver. It was only a moment later that Dontos hopped into the front seat. Sandor and Brienne seated themselves on either side of Sansa. She bit back a sigh and reminded herself that they didn't mean to be suffocating. She'd hoped to use a long drive to clear her mind and calm her nerves, but the tightness in the car only set her nerves further on edge.

 

She turned to Brienne. "Let's go for a walk instead." She hesitated. "We'll stay inside the gates." Brienne’s eyes shot above her head, and she knew she was checking what Sandor's ruling was.

 

Brienne was a young woman only a few years older than Sansa's twenty-one. She'd been working for the family for only six months, but Sansa had come to consider her a friend. Sandor, on the other hand, had been in the family for as long as she could remember. He spent most of his time guarding her taking mental notes of censure to bring back to her father. Sansa always tried her best to stay in her father's good graces, because she knew what happened when she didn't. But it was never enough for him, or Sandor. She shook her head and asked the driver to go, fingering the thin silver chain of her necklace absently.

 

-🐺-

 

Meanwhile, Jon Snow was in a compromising position in a room above the Smoking Log. He thrust into the woman he'd picked up downstairs, never bothering to get her name. He watched her writhe in ecstasy beneath him. He tried to focus on how warm and wet she felt around him, and the way her moans begged him to continue, but he couldn't. In his mind's eye, he could only picture a set of beautifully shaped, blue eyes. He sighed and removed himself from the woman. Her eyes opened, and she moaned a protest. He reached below him and rubbed her clit disinterestedly. Her moans intensified while he could already feel himself slackening. She came, clutching her breasts, and he rose from the bed to get dressed.

 

"What about you?" she panted, still shuddering with the aftereffects of her orgasm.

 

"Next time." He threw on his leather jacket and put some money on the table. "This is for the room," he made sure to tell her. The last thing he needed was an angry woman who felt accused of being treated like a whore.

 

He went down the steps and straight the side door into the quiet night. He leaned against the side of the building. She was beautiful, Sansa Stark. He thanked God and his father for that at least. Jon hadn't wanted this marriage any more than she could have, he mused. Yet, their parents had struck the truce earlier that day. There was no way to back out of it without causing more bloodshed than Jon ever wanted to be responsible for. Stark was lethal and extremely protective of his daughter. No one had seen her since her mother had died when she was three. He'd take Jon's refusal as an insult. Jon breathed in the night air and pulled out the picture Rhaegar had given him from his wallet. She wasn't his type, but something in her eyes fascinated him. Her expression was at once determined and docile.

 

He started at the picture, a smile forming on his face. His fingers brushed Sansa’s cheek. This was the woman who would be his wife, who would grow old with him. He wished she had smiled.

 

He carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet and sauntered toward his bike. He’d had his fill of Smoking Log for the night. He didn’t know why he’d decided coming here would be a good idea. Getting the most of his bachelor days before he was trapped in a marriage seemed so silly now. He didn’t feel trapped when he thought of Sansa. He was intrigued. She was home-schooled, guarded as if she was made of glass and never seen off the estate, which was probably one of the reasons Stark never conducted business on the estate. But she’d had that look in her eye that teased she wasn’t as domesticated as the rumors suggested. He shook his head slightly to dislodge the image of her that had embedded itself there. He’d have the rest of his life to get to know what made her tick. He smirked to himself.

 

He reached his bike and felt a twinge of annoyance. The blonde he’d left only minutes earlier upstairs was now draped across his bike. It would have been seductive if she didn’t look so desperate. Realizing he was there, she sat up with a wide smile, straddling the bike. She said nothing but mentally undressed him and let her tongue glide across her mouth’s opening slowly. “You forgot to get my number for next time,” she said in a husky voice, quirking up an eyebrow.

 

“I have to go. Could you get off my bike, please?” he asked. He wanted to be a gentleman; it was why he’d even finished her off before he left, but he couldn’t stop the irritation from creeping into his voice. Pouting, she swung her leg over the bike and stood up. Jon sat down and kicked up the leg stand. He was about to start the bike when he noticed her downcast eyes. She wasn’t faking that. “What’s your name?” he asked.

 

“Myrcella,” she said.

 

“Jon. Want a ride home?”

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa had had the driver, Dontos, circle the estate twice before she’d asked him to turn back. Now that she’d had time to reign in her emotions, she thought it was safe to speak to her father. She thanked Dontos and allowed Brienne to help her from the car.

 

She walked back through the house, followed by Sandor, determined to let her father know how she felt. She found him in his usual spot in the study. He was slightly slouched in an armchair nursing a glass of scotch. He looked up when he heard her approach and waved her away, returning to his drink. She pressed her lips together for a second. Sansa didn’t think that she’d have the courage that she’d found now to say this later. She took a step into the room, and Sandor’s fingers wrapped around her upper arm. It wasn’t meant to be painful and she saw it for the reprimand that it was.

 

“I’m sorry, Sandor,” she murmured. Her eyes lowered to the ground prepared for a verbal scolding but she didn’t receive one. He let go of her arm just as quickly as he had moved to take it. Her lashes slowly raised, and she looked up at him curiously. He had never missed an opportunity to catch her misbehaving. It was to his benefit when she made a mistake; he was after all the one who doled out punishments and rewards. In this way, he wielded more power over her than her father did at times.

 

Before he could change his mind, Sansa told him goodnight and walked down the hall. She went up the staircase to her bedroom. She’d wanted to tell her father that she didn’t want to get married. She wanted to travel and explore the world. She wanted to live unguarded. She wanted to tour the Taj Mahal, bathe in the Mediterranean and… fall in love. If she couldn’t change his mind, she’d have to give up on the latter. But perhaps, if her husband were kind, he would help her achieve the others.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon pulled up to the address Myrcella had given him. It was in a seedy part of town. The apartment complex had graffiti sprayed on its sides, and trash littered the street. He could make out a woman in a skimpy outfit entering a car and driving off a block ahead. Myrcella jumped off the bike and watched him with her hands on her back. He kicked the stand out on the bike and got off too.

 

“I should walk you up,” he said.

 

“And get your bike stolen?” she laughed. “I live here. No one bothers the residents.” Jon nodded. He’d at least wait until she was inside. After a few seconds, she asked, “so who is she?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The girl you couldn’t stop thinking about when you were with me.” Jon’s eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably. “Is she worth what you missed out on?” She winked.

 

“I don’t know. It’s my fiancé. Sh--” Jon wasn’t able to finish as Myrcella right hooked him in the jaw.

 

“Fiancé?!?” she yelled. He tried to hide his face, and she landed another blow on his ear.

 

“Ow, what the fuck, Myrcella?”

 

“I don’t let cheaters cheat with me. It’s a rule,” she said. Her fist was already upraised to hit him again. He reached out and held her wrist in his hand.

 

“And I don’t let women hit me, and I never cheat. It’s sort of arranged. I haven’t met her yet.”

 

Her eyes widened, and she cooed. “Arranged? That’s kind of romantic in a 1800s, you’ve got no rights sort of way. Do you have to wait until the wedding to see her?” she asked. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at her.

 

“Uh, it’s not actually the 1800s, Myrcella,” he said sarcastically. “Anyway, I have to go, so head up. I’ll wait.” He got back onto his bike and nodded toward the entrance of the building. She scrunched her face at him and turned around. He rolled his eyes again as she walked away. Soon, he was biting his lip, wondering what the rest of Sansa would look like sashaying in front of him the way Myrcella was now.

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella walked up the six flights of stairs to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend. She reached the door, slightly out of breath. She turned the key in the lock slowly praying that he was already asleep. The door creaked while it opened, and she whispered a curse as she tiptoed into the apartment. She removed the key, shut and locked the door. Her lips upturned; she wasn’t in the mood to fight tonight.

 

She tiptoed to the kitchen hoping that she didn‘t bump into anything along the way. The apartment’s windows faced another building only a few feet away which made getting any natural light impossible. The tile creaked beneath her weight. She chewed her bottom lip. She really wanted a sandwich. Orgasms always made her hungry, and that had been a big one tonight. Too bad he wasn’t interested, she thought, but at least she’d gotten to try him for a night. Turning on the oven light, she let out a small yelp when she saw Ramsay leaned against the counter.

 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, immediately covering. “Are you hungry? I was going to make a sandwich.” She motioned to the fridge.

 

“Where were you tonight?” he asked in a deadly whisper. Fear pumped into her chest but she forced herself to roll her eyes at him. She turned her back on him and pulled out wheat bread, ham and cheese. She shouldn’t have to answer to him. He never explained where he was or how long he’d be out to her. God forbid she wasn’t home before he was, though, and he threw a fit. Myrcella popped her bread into the toaster. He should understand. If he wanted his freedom, so did she. “Where were you tonight?” he repeated.

 

“Ramsay, I don’t want to do this. I really just want to make my sandwich and go to bed. If you want to fight, let’s do it in the morning,” she said, grabbing her toast and putting together her sandwich.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me help you,” he said. Ramsay reached across her, took her plate and smashed it against the wall, invigorated by her scream.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon walked into his bedroom and fell onto his bed. He couldn’t believe that just a picture of her had stopped him from getting laid. Even now, he’d rather take out the picture and look at her than get some sleep. He shook his head. It was pointless. He’d be married to her in a week. All he had to do was ask his father to arrange a meeting tomorrow, and he’d finally be able to put a body and voice to Sansa’s beautiful face. The picture had assured Rhaegar that Jon would be able to remain faithful to her as he must. Jon couldn’t imagine cheating on a woman anyway. He wasn’t like his father.

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella fidgeted with her hair and looked straight at his chest. If she’d known he was in one of these moods, she’d have come home sooner. “Where were you tonight?” Ramsay asked again, emphasizing each word.

 

“I went to the Smoking Log for a beer. You know HotPie’s always been nice to me,” she said.

 

“Did you fuck him tonight?” She shook her head quickly.

 

“No, baby, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.” He gripped the sides of her head and shook it slightly.

 

“Are you telling me the truth?” She nodded, her eyes wide. Ramsay considered her for a moment and decided to believe her. “I love you,” he murmured, crushing his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. Relieved, she responded with vigor, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon debated waiting until morning to ask his father to get an invitation to Stark. He hopped off of the bed. He didn’t want to risk Rhaegar leaving early and having to wait to meet Sansa. He jogged down the stairs to the sitting room where Rhaegar could usually be found at this time of night. “Dad?” he called when he reached the landing and didn’t see him. He sighed in frustration. “Dad!”

 

The glass doors leading to the garden opened and Rhaegar poked his head in. “What is it, son? Is everything okay?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Jon said. He felt a little embarrassed about his urgency now that his dad was looking at him so expectantly. He straightened his back and made his voice serious. “Could you call Stark and ask if I could meet Sansa tomorrow? I’d like to know who I’m supposed to be marrying.”

 

Rhaegar tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “I can do that.” Jon nodded, said goodnight and left the room, kicking himself mentally. Rhaegar chuckled. Maybe this deal wouldn’t be such a burden after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a reworking of one of my old fics and so already completed. I hope you enjoy it!


	2. overwhelm me

The next morning, Jon could barely contain his excitement. He tried to be cool in front of his father and the guards, but he was finally going to meet Sansa. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since he’d first been given her picture. He showered quickly, washing his hair and taking extra care to apply double layers of deodorant. He didn’t feel like a college graduate; he felt as nervous as he’d been on his first date in high school.

 

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple grey shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. Usually, he hated to match like that and only caved in to the demands of his best friend to highlight his features when he needed to appear in court. He rubbed mousse in his hands and ran it through his hair. Stark had given Jon a free pass for the day inside his estate as long as he came alone, unguarded.

 

Rhaegar had spent ten minutes arguing this rule with Ned while Jon shook his head at him. In the end, Rhaegar had agreed. Jon was by far more lethal than any of the guards he could send with him anyway. He could take care of himself. But this hadn’t stopped Rhaegar from reminding Ned what he stood to gain from their children’s marriage.

 

“I’m leaving,” Jon said after Rhaegar had hung up the phone. “How do I look?”

 

“Nervous,” Rhaegar answered smiling. “Maybe you should go in a few hours. Go work off that energy in the gym.”

 

“No, I have a half hour to get there. I’ll calm down on the way.” He turned to leave.

 

“Nervous and handsome,” Rhaegar called. Jon smirked.

 

-🐺-

 

It was only eight when Sansa woke up that morning, and Jon Snow wasn’t expected until 10:30. She was glad, because there wasn’t exactly a rule book on what to wear when you meet your fiancé for the first time. Brienne had been relieved during the night and replaced by Gendry, Sansa’s third guard. If she’d still been here, Sansa would have asked for her opinion. Gendry wasn’t equipped for these types of things. He often aimed to please rather than be honest. Brienne wasn’t much better, yet she made a real effort, knowing Sansa didn’t have anyone else to ask.

 

She’d debated for longer than she would have admitted to anyone. She ended up opting for a white button-down t-shirt dress with black buttons. She cinched it at her waist with a small black belt and slipped into red flats. She turned this way and that, hoping Jon Snow wouldn’t be disappointed. If they get off on the wrong foot, it would make this marriage that much more unbearable.

 

She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. She checked her watch; he would be here soon. Now that meeting him was so near, she was starting to feel anxious. She applied mascara, a light foundation, blush and a natural shade of lip gloss.

 

She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, composing herself. It was only when she was sure she appeared as she should that she left her bedroom to wait for him downstairs.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon had arrived twenty minutes early in his eagerness not to be late. The moment he’d entered the property, he’d been escorted by a guard to the front door. Inside, instead of immediately meeting Sansa as he‘d hoped, he was ushered into a study by Sandor Clegane.

 

“You’re early. Take a seat here, and she’ll be down in a moment,” he said.

 

Jon nodded and sat in one of the armchairs, looking around him. It was a spacious room that felt more like a small library with the amount of books lining the walls. He doubted Stark ever had time to read all of them. He was known for traveling all over the world and doing most of his business through phone calls from his jet. He tapped his fingers against the arms of the seat, trying to dissipate some of his nervous energy.

 

He stood up and started browsing the books. They seemed to be ordered alphabetically. There were anthologies, young adult fiction and the classics. His brows furrowed, and he wondered which of the books were her favorite. His fingers traced the spine of a particularly worn book.

 

Sansa had come down to wait for him and had been surprised to find that he was already here. She’d watched him stand up and look around the room. She hadn’t been able to see his face yet, but so far she was impressed with what she saw. His shoulders were broad, his back defined in his shirt. His jeans fit snugly, and he walked with a quiet confidence. She didn’t know why, but she’d been expecting someone as grotesque as this entire deal was to her. Silently, she walked over to where he was and stood beside him quietly for a moment. He seemed not to have heard her approach. She liked the way he touched the book, gently as if it were precious to him.

 

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked him in a soft voice.

 

Jon shook his head and turned toward her with a smile she didn‘t return. Her picture hadn’t done her justice. Her eyes had much more depth. Her lips looked fuller and softer. She was even more beautiful in person. He hoped he didn’t look as dumbstruck as he felt. “I’m Jon,” he said.

 

He tried to covertly check her out. He knew it was wrong, but his mind was splashed with indecent thoughts. He loved the way her dress looked and he imagined how sexy she would look in only his t-shirt. How would her firm legs feel wrapped around him, or her supple breasts feel against his chest? He shifted his weight and focused on those cold blue eyes to curb his arousal.

 

“I’m Sansa. I guess we’re getting married,” she said. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. She sounded impartial even, but he detected a hint of sadness. He was about to ask if it wasn’t what she wanted when she reached across him to pull out the book he’d been looking at. He peeked at the title: Crime and Punishment. Her fingers played with the tattered corners. “You picked out my favorite.” She smiled, looking up at him. Jon felt his heart fill with pride at being the one to make her smile.

 

“It’s a good one.”

 

Gendry watched their exchange from the door. He moved in closer behind Sansa to stand only a couple of feet away. He’d been given orders not to allow them to touch. He didn’t see why it mattered considering Jon would be touching her in ways the guards only dreamed of at the end of the week. Either way, he hadn’t expected the order to need enforcing.

 

In the years he’d guarded her, the only person he’d ever seen touch Sansa was her father and that in itself was a rarity. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t bothered to tell her about the rule this morning. He also hated seeing her upset. He genuinely liked her and understood how tough she had it. He did his best to respect her privacy when he guarded her and not to report anything she did wrong back to Sandor, but she was standing fairly close to Mr. Snow now, too close if he was going to keep his job.

 

He cleared his throat. Sansa and Jon turned away from the bookshelf to look at him. “If I could have a moment, Miss Stark,” he said, nodding to the hallway. She assented and put the book back in its spot.

 

“Excuse me,” she said to Jon. He nodded and watched her follow the guard. His eyes focused on the slight sway of her hips. He shook his head. He’d have to get it together if he was going spend time with her. He didn’t need her noticing how hot she made him. Just being around her turned him on, but he wanted to get to know her too, to understand what went on behind those beautiful eyes.

 

Sansa was glad for the interruption from Gendry. There were at least a thousand books lining the walls of the study, some even more worn than Crime and Punishment. Yet Jon had been able to pick out the only one that truly mattered to her. It unnerved her. She walked down the hall so Jon wouldn’t hear the conversation and turned to face Gendry.

 

His eyes shifted from hers uncomfortably, and he had to remind himself that he was a professional. “Ahem, I thought I should let you know the rule for the visit with Mr. Snow.” Sansa nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. “No touching.”

 

She simply nodded again and waited to see if there was anything else. Beneath the surface, she was a little hurt. It probably wasn’t meant as an insult, but it felt like one. Did her father really believe that she would see Jon and lose all sense of decorum? She’d made one mistake years ago and had lost his trust. It wasn’t until now that she realized that she had lost his respect as well. Gendry moved aside and tilted his head in the direction of the study. She took a few steps before she stopped. Gendry had a habit of keeping her secrets, and before she allowed this to hurt her too deeply, she had to ask, “Was this my father’s idea?”

 

“No,” Gendry replied. “It was Sandor’s."

 

She was simultaneously relieved and irritated. She bit her lip against a sigh and continued down the hall. There was only a week left in this house at the most. Only a week, she thought to herself. That consoled her but then she realized she’d be dealing with whatever restrictions living with Jon would bring. It was like moving from one prison to another. She sat on the couch across from Jon in the study.

 

He took a look at her. Her expression was the same as when she’d left, but he could sense that something was wrong. His back straightened. What had upset her? Jon wanted to ask but didn’t want to overstep.

 

“I bet this isn’t how you thought getting married would be,” Sansa said. 

 

“It’s not so bad,” Jon said. “Have you decided what you’d like for the wedding and honeymoon?“ Sansa felt her cheeks reddening and knew that the blush had heated her neck and chest as well. “I, I didn’t mean, uh,“ Jon stuttered. There was an awkward silence while Sansa collected herself. His eyes passed over her face. He wondered if she’d blush like this when he finally had the chance to kiss her. He licked his lips unconsciously.

 

“I haven’t thought about it. I assumed we’d be having the ceremony in front of the other families. You can choose whatever you want for the honeymoon,” she said accommodatingly.

 

“I’d like to know your opinion,” he said. Sansa looked up at him suspiciously. It’d been so long since anyone had cared what she wanted or thought about anything. The only person who had was taken from her a long time ago. Suddenly, being around Jon’s watchful grey eyes and the quiet voice she doubted he knew was so seductive was too much for her.

 

She stood and said, “I don’t have one.”

 

Jon stood up as well, his hand outstretched. “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“I have some plans for today, but it was nice meeting you,” she said with a tone of finality.

 

Before he could protest, she walked out of the study, leaving Jon confused and disappointed. He'd hoped to have the entire day with her, but somehow he'd blown it. What had he said to offend her? He stayed there for ten minutes looking around him as if the walls could answer his questions and remove his doubt.

 

He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. Every little girl dreams of their wedding day. He didn’t care about the flower arrangements or where they went for the honeymoon, but girls loved that shit. Hell, most of them knew the exact hotel they wanted to stay at in the Bahamas, Hawaii or wherever else they wanted to go. He’d thought it’d be a good way to distract her from what had upset her, but he’d only made it worse. He wanted to find her and apologize but he had to respect her wishes. He couldn’t be seen wandering around her house. She’d only think he was crazy.

 

Sliding into his car, he headed toward the gym to work off some of his frustration rather than drive home and face his father’s questions. The more Jon thought about their meeting, the angrier he was with himself. Why had he tried to force the issue? She obviously didn’t want to marry him and couldn’t care less about the wedding or what happened after. She could barely stand to be in the same room as him for more than five minutes. She’d probably had some sort of signal with her guard to interrupt them and had only been upset about having to come back and speak with him at all.

 

He sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the seat. He’d been so stupid. He’d been thrown off by how stunning she was, distracted by her beauty, and he’d acted like a horny teenager instead of paying attention to her body language. She’d kept her hands clenched in her laps. She’d been uncomfortable. Instead of putting her at ease, no, he brought up the honeymoon like all he could think about was having sex with her. Now, he’d be lucky to see her before the wedding Saturday.

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa knew that dismissing Jon would infuriate Ned and Sandor but she’d had to do it. He’d looked at her with such sincerity and concern and he was so damn handsome that she was in danger of actually believing it.

 

But she couldn’t allow herself to be taken in by his good looks. Men in the mob, men like Jon, were charismatic and cunning. The minute she signed that marriage license, and they were living under the same roof, all that charm would evaporate. They were domineering, invasive, paranoid, she thought. She didn’t need a man like that pretending to care and lulling her into a false sense of security. She couldn’t stop this wedding. She couldn’t change her fate, and she knew she’d be expected to perform certain duties as his wife. He’d have her in his bed. She’d have to do that much, but he would never have her trust.

 

She was so angry that on her way up the stairs to her bathroom, the only place she could find any bit of privacy, she didn’t notice Sandor walking down toward her.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked. “Why aren’t you entertaining Snow?”

 

“How did you expect me to entertain him?” she snapped. “Did you really think that I’d, what, throw myself at him today?” Angry as she was, her eyes filled with tears betraying the hurt as well. She blinked them away quickly. She’d never give this man the satisfaction.

 

“With your past, I’m surprised you could contain yourself,” he mocked. Her eyes narrowed, and she slapped him before she could stop herself. The sound shocked her out of her fury while Sandor chuckled darkly. He’d given her a small reprieve the night before when she’d disobeyed her father. Although he’d been feeling nostalgic then, this morning he’d been told how little time they had left with each other. Luckily for him, she’d just earned herself a week full of punishments.

 

Gendry saw the rage mix with joy in Sandor’s eyes and felt uneasy. He moved a couple of steps closer to Sansa on the stairwell. “Mr. Snow had a business emergency. It really rattled Sansa,” he explained. He looked at Sansa but still spoke to Sandor. “She was so worried, it’s no wonder she’s feeling a bit emotional now.”

 

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I don’t know what came over me. I’m very sorry,” she breathed, turning and rushing up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all of the lovely comments! I'm so happy you all are enjoying it. I think I'll post once a day or so since it's all completed and just needs editing before posting?


	3. the trick is to keep breathing

Ramsay sat at home in the dark watching the hands move forward on the clock. It was after two in the morning and like the previous few nights, Myrcella wasn’t home. His fists clenched at his side and pain filled his eyes. He’d been so upset the last time she’d come home around this time that the rage and hurt had bubbled over. He’d scared her, and now she was avoiding him. She wasn’t taking his calls or returning them. She hadn’t even shown up to work; it was as if she’d just picked up everything and ran away. He muttered a slew of curses.

 

He hadn’t want to scare her. Yet, at the same time, sometimes that fear was the only thing standing between her and the door. And he couldn’t lose her. She was everything to him. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with whether he had to hear from other people how Myrcella was out at Smoking Log talking up this guy or not. He’d always pretended to believe her when she said she didn’t cheat. She insisted on making a fool of him with her lies but he couldn’t let her leave. He fucking loved her. More than he’d ever loved anyone before, more than she knew or understood. More than she loved him, he thought bitterly. He brushed away the beginnings of tears and called her again. It went straight to voicemail. He grabbed his jacket and went out to look for her.

 

-🐺-

 

Shireen Baratheon walked out of the hospital yawning and rubbing her hands together to stave off the cold. She’d just finished a surgery on a patient, and she was waiting for the test results. For some reason, her nerves were on edge tonight. She’d come outside to hide it from Theon; he was already concerned about her and she didn’t want to worry him anymore than she already was. So, she stood in the night, the cool air beating against her jacket. She hugged her arms around herself and swayed in the wind. She heard a small whimper and turned toward the sound.

 

It wasn’t the first time the local mob had just dropped a victim by the emergency room instead of bringing them inside, she thought, sighing. She let the weak moans of pain lead her to the back of the hospital. She sent a small prayer of thanks that the wind had carried the voice to her when a tiny body came into view. She rushed forward and took a look at the woman. Her eyes were swollen shut and blood seeped from somewhere beneath her clothes.

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa curled up on her side in the fetal position on her bed. The last night was over, and Brienne guarded her. She breathed deeply, feigning sleep while the tears slid silently from her eyes. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight was her last night in this house. She’d clung on to that thought desperately this week while Sandor had worked to make her feel small and helpless. But tonight his attack had been particularly brutal. Finally, all the hope in her had died. She’d never be able to escape his strict rule. He’d do his best to follow her to her new home if only to see the fear enter her eyes. As long as he was alive, she’d never be free. He’d continue playing this twisted game with her until someone stopped him. The thought filled her with not joy or hope but conviction.

 

-🐺-

 

Shireen held the woman’s hand gingerly, not wanting to hurt her. “You’re going to be okay, I’m going to get you in the hospital,” she said. At her voice, the woman squeezed her hand. Shireen hoped that would be true. Who could do this to such a slight woman? Blood was matted in her hair, discoloring it.

 

She moved to tug her hand away so she could run in and get help but the woman gripped her tighter. She gasped when the woman’s ring dug into her hand. It was only then, when she’d tugged her hand away, that she recognized the ring. It was the image of a small lion chewing on a heart; it was Myrcella’s. Shireen felt her stomach drop. Not Myrcella, she thought, but as her eyes traveled up to the blood in the woman’s hair, she saw the specks of blonde beneath it.

 

There was a sharp cry of recognition. “Myrcella! Myrcella! You’re going to be fine; I’m going to get you help. Don’t worry,” Shireen said hurriedly before running back into the hospital to find someone who could carry her cousin inside.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon turned away from the early morning light peaking through his curtains. It was finally Saturday and he still had not spoken to Sansa. He’d thought of sending her flowers or a gift to apologize but how could he when he didn’t know what he was apologizing for? He could only speculate. Besides, she didn’t seem like the type of girl to gush over presents.

 

He glanced at his watch; it was only seven. Sansa should be up getting ready. He allowed himself a brief moment to imagine the curve of her back being covered up slowly in a white bodice. But he couldn’t indulge for too long. The guests should be arriving any minute. He cursed the passing seconds on his watch. Rhaegar had insisted on having the ceremony during the day. It made it more difficult for snipers to perch on any adjacent rooftops. The five families would be assembled for the first time in three years. It was the perfect opportunity to make a statement.

 

He rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. At least he had the easy job. No one expected him to look spectacular. He’d gotten his hair trimmed yesterday and now he’d just need to have a quick shower, shave and show up. Fifteen minutes later, Jon walked down the stairs in a black tuxedo, a white shirt and a black tie. Tucked in the back of his waistband was his favorite gun.

 

-🐺-

 

Shireen, completely unaware of the significance of this day to Jon, called him for the second time in the last hour. She’d debated doing it at first, but Jon was in the mob. He’d know how to find who’d done this to Myrcella if not why they’d done it. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling every time she thought of her beautiful, free-spirited cousin lying so still in the hospital bed. Myrcella’d slipped into a coma in the middle of the night. Her doctors told Shireen that she could still pull through, that her body just needed time to heal itself after the beating and emergency surgery. But Shireen was a doctor, and she knew when people were avoiding being the deliverer of bad news. If Myrcella didn’t wake up in the next few days, there was a high chance she might not wake up at all.

 

She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Jon to pick up the phone. It went to voicemail. She hung up and redialed.

 

-🐺-

 

“I’m sorry, dear, but it has to be tight.”

 

Sansa who was bracing herself against the wall was indeed being laced into a corset bodice. When the overly cheery wedding planner was finished, she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, exquisite, but she couldn’t help feeling disinterested.

 

Ever the perfect daughter, she didn’t let her happy façade slip in front of an outsider. She smiled and asked how she looked, trying to act the part of a blushing bride. She’d need to drive over to Jon’s house soon. The wedding was being held in their garden as both Ned and Mr. Targaryen thought it was best to keep the event quiet. Her eyes searched for the clock. It was already nine. In only sixty minutes, she would be married woman. The thought filled her with a combination of relief and trepidation. She wondered if Jon would even wait until that night or if he’d want to have sex right in the limo.

 

She hadn’t heard from him since he’d come to introduce herself. She regretted her mistreatment of him for more than one reason now. He’d been kind while she was curt. So much for leaving a good first impression. She sighed dejectedly but covered with a giggle when the wedding planner looked up at her curiously.

 

“I’m so nervous,” Sansa said.

 

“Oh, don’t you worry,” the woman said in her southern drawl. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure you don’t trip! Now, I think we’re all done here.” She stood back, ruffled the gown a bit and nodded. “Now, let’s get on our way. You wouldn’t want to be late to your own wedding, now would you?”

 

-🐺-

 

Jon mingled with the guests, keeping everyone comfortable until Sansa arrived and the ceremony could begin. He felt his phone vibrate for the third time; it was Shireen again. Since their breakup in high school, they’d stayed on distant but friendly terms. He’d thought that she might be calling just to talk the first couple of times, but something must be truly wrong for her to call a third time. He excused himself quickly, stepping away from the array of guests and flipped open his cell phone.

 

“Shireen, what’s wrong?” he asked right away.

 

“Thank God you answered.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, but Myrcella isn’t. Some--”

 

“Wait, how do you know Myrcella?”

 

“She’s my cousin!”

 

“Shit, I didn’t know she was your cous--,” he started, thinking Shireen was upset about him hooking up with her.

 

Shireen interrupted impatiently. “Yeah, she is. Anyway, I need your help. Somebody, somebody beat her up pretty bad last night. Do you know who could have done it?”

 

Jon ran a hand over his face. He may not have known Myrcella long or well, but she didn’t deserve this. Neither did Shireen. He could hear in her hoarse voice that she’d been crying. He cursed softly. “I, uh, I really don’t know. I wish I could help, be there for you, but I can’t come to the hospital right now. I’ll send a guard to her room in case whoever did it comes back?” Shireen assented. “Is she going to be okay?”

 

“Um, I hope so but it’s touch and go right now. She needs to fight. I just don't know if she has the strength anymore,” she said, her voice breaking.

 

“I will find who did this, Shireen,” he said. And though she’d always hated his business, she took comfort in the steely tone in his voice. She could trust in him, trust that while she needed to be by Myrcella’s side, he would be making sure that the person who’d done this didn’t walk free. She thanked him and said she’d call back later.

 

Jon stood for a moment, his hand tight around his phone as he fought the fury burning in his veins. He took several deep breaths. This was his wedding day; it was supposed to be the happiest day of his life… whether or not the bride actually wanted to walk down the aisle. He exhaled, massaged a kink in his neck and cursed again.

 

Everything was completely fucked. A nice albeit sexually aggressive girl he'd met at a bar was in the ICU; his ex was trying to hold it together. And the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a woman he'd hoped he could make the best out of this marriage with was walking down the aisle with invisible chains around her wrists. He felt overwhelmed by it all but, even in the bad mood he felt himself sinking into where half of him just wanted it to be over, he still felt a rush of excitement when he thought of Sansa walking toward him. If he could make her smile today, he told himself, this day wouldn't be a total waste. With all that was happening, it would be just what he needed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So past Shireen and Jon, huh? Lol.


	4. i know it's a lie... i want it to be true

The limo pulled up to the gated estate and she took a steadying breath. It had the same layout of her father’s mansion but it somehow seemed much more like a home. The atmosphere wasn’t charged with the same negative energy her house with Ned was.

 

Because it was her first time out of the house since her mother was alive, Sansa was joined by all three of her guards. Sandor and her father sat across from her while Brienne and Gendry were on either side of her. The gates opened and soon, they were driving onto the grounds. Now that she was here, the doubt and fear had faded into the background, replaced by calmness. Her father was getting what he wanted, and so was she. In her mind, no one could hope to be as cruel and vindictive as Sandor was.

 

The car pulled up to the front door. The wedding planner had explained to her back at the house that she’d need to go inside briefly to allow the guests time to be seated and then she could make her entrance. Brienne stepped out of the car first, her head twisting around to survey the surroundings. Sandor left next. He offered her his hand but she pretended not to notice. She gathered her dress up in her hands, left the car and walked up the front steps.

 

She hadn’t yet reached the top one when a burly woman swung the door open. She was ushered inside and all of them were brought to a small room to wait. She caught her reflection in the mirror, the small veil catching her attention. It was her wedding day, she realized. She couldn’t feel joy or disappointment at the thought because she didn’t know whom she was truly marrying yet, but at least she could revel for a moment in how pretty the wedding planner had made her. Without a word of encouragement or a decision from her, she’d somehow gotten a dress similar to what she’d always dreamt of.

 

Jon watched the guests walk languidly to their seats with a twinge of annoyance. He was ready to get the ceremony and reception over with. Apart from the kiss, he had nothing to look forward to standing in a room full of all these people. It was only after this event was over that he’d have the chance to actually get to know his wife. His wife, Jon thought, smiling.

 

The procession music started. He watched from the sidelines as the septon took his place and the guests all turned in unison to watch the wedding party. There was no flower girl or the traditional number of groomsmen, but the parents walked in first, and he had his best man. Tormund Giantsbane walked to the center of the garden to stand by his side followed by a middle-aged woman he assumed was the maid of honor. Jon could feel the anxiety course through his veins. Tormund gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. He turned to him and grimaced a nervous smile, turning back to look for Sansa when he heard a collective appreciative sigh.

 

His breath caught in his throat. She was a vision, lovelier than he remembered. Her cheeks were flush with slight embarrassment at all the attention. Her eyes shone with excitement as she walked toward him, and for a minute there, looking at her bright eyes, he forgot it wasn’t a real wedding. His worries were abated as he was overcome with sheer joy to be able to have this woman with him. He tried to calm himself, because it wasn’t real. He shouldn’t let himself be taken up by romantic notions, but a smile broke out on his face anyway. More than any other time in his life, this moment felt… right.

 

She reached his side and gave him a small, polite smile that sent his mind crashing back to reality but his heart was still swelling. He tried to check his own smile, to look like he knew what this was but looking at her like this… he couldn’t help it.

 

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the septon asked.

 

“I do,” her father said, placing Sansa’s hand in Jon’s. A charge seemed to travel through his hand, jolting the rest of his body. He glanced down at their joined hands. He’d never felt anything like it.

 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the holy union of this man, Jon Snow, to this woman, Sansa Stark…” the septon began.

 

Sansa tried to pay attention to the septon and ignore the way Jon’s hand in hers made her feel. She’d felt the energy pass through them as well; his piercing eyes were trained on her face. She kept her eyes averted. If she didn’t, she knew she’d get lost in there and miss her cue. How embarrassing would that be for her father? How much would it anger Sandor? The thought sobered her and she was able to compose herself once again.

 

“And for the rings…” the septon said looking at Jon expectantly. Tormund handed him a ring, which Jon held on her fingertip as he repeated after the septon whose voice waned as Sansa focused intently on Jon.

 

“Ahem. I, Jon Snow,” he began in his quiet, sincere voice, “take you, Sansa Stark, to be my wife secure that you will be my constant friend and faithful partner in life. I promise to help you to the best of my ability reach your goals and attain happiness. I will love, honor and respect you forsaking all others so long as we both shall live.” The ring slipped onto her finger. “This ring is a symbol of my promise to stand by your side, listen to you when you speak, to comfort you when you cry and join your laughter with my own. Take this ring and be my wife.”

 

He was almost pleading with her. She turned with tearful eyes to get the ring from her maid of honor, one of her father’s associates. She blinked them away while she had the moment free from his gaze. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry. It was a script. It didn’t matter that he said it like he meant it, like he’d walk over hot coals before he disappointed her. It was a script. Her eyes dry, she turned back to him and poised the ring at his fingertip.

 

“I, Sansa Stark, take you, Jon Snow, to be my husband secure that you will be my constant friend and faithful partner in life. I promise to help you, to the best of my ability, reach your goals and attain happiness. I will love, honor and respect you forsaking all others so long as we both shall live.” She pushed the ring to his knuckle. “This ring is a symbol of my promise to stand by your side, listen to you when you speak, to comfort you when you cry and join your laughter with my own. Take this ring and be my husband.” He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand sending shivers up her spine.

 

“By the power vested in me by the old gods, the new, and the laws of the North, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Jon’s hand cupped her cheek and he leaned his head down to hers, close enough for her breath to mingle with his. He brushed his lips lightly on hers and as if her body moved of its own accord, her mouth parted and she lifted herself on her tiptoes. Their mouths met in a slow, sweet exploration. Her arms wrapped around his neck while his encompassed her waist. She pulled away after a moment generating a groan from Jon and a chuckle from the audience.

 

-🐺-

 

Her smile tightened as yet another guest fawned over the “beautiful young woman” she’d grown up to be while their eyes lingered on every part of her body but her face. She didn’t know how much longer she could fake the joy of being Mrs. Jon Snow or of having the opportunity to see again all of the people she didn’t remember to begin with. She nodded absently, pretending to listen to an older man remarking how little she’d been when she was born. On any other day, this news would have enticed her, because surely it meant he had known her mother, but it was all Sansa could do to stop herself from hunching her shoulders and running for the nearest exit. There were too many people. After years of house arrest with minimal contact with anyone outside of the family’s security detail, the sudden crowd made her anxious and uncomfortable. It didn’t help that though there was a constant chatter, every eye kept returning to admire the bride.

 

“I’m sorry. Would you please excuse me for a moment?” she interrupted.

 

“Of course. I’ve been talking your ear off for far too long,” he said good-naturedly.

 

“No, I’ve enjoyed it,” she assured him. She forced her smile to widen as she thanked him and turned toward the doors leading to a sitting room. She felt a presence behind her though the person moved silently. She walked through the room toward another set of doors seeking the small room she’d been led to after the wedding. She took a few steadying breaths wishing that her usual calmness could still her nerves.

 

She just needed a minute alone. Her eyes scanned the hallway trying to retrace her steps. Once the ceremony was over, she had needed to change into something more befitting for Ned Stark’s daughter. She was the bride, but she was also Jon’s partner now. Her father hadn’t cultivated her deadly skills to have the families see her as arm candy after all. The black dress she wore now gave her an edge while maintaining her femininity.

 

In the entrance hall now, Sansa turned and faced her pursuer. Sandor stood before her with a stony expression. She could tell immediately from the set of his mouth that he was upset about something. She said nothing as usual, waiting in silence for him to voice his displeasure.

 

“Where are you running off to on your own? You aren’t to go anywhere by yourself. You know that.”

 

A small crease formed between her brows. “Things are different now. I’m not your responsibility anymore,” she said quietly, her voice inflecting at the end in uncertainty. He came forward until he loomed over her. Her initial reaction was to cower slightly, eyes lowered to the ground. She caught herself doing exactly that but a thought occurred to her as she made her eyes meet his menacing stare with a glare of her own. Those days were over; Sandor no longer had any power over her.

 

Sensing her train of thought, he leaned forward to whisper a threat in her ear. She leaned away from him and instinctively his hand caught the back of her head firmly and held her in place. He felt her shiver at his display of how powerless she really was against him; he could almost smell the fear emanating from her soft skin. Her fists were clenched but she made no attempt to fight him. For a moment, he stood there and enjoyed the feel of her breath hot against his neck.

 

He closed his eyes and reveled in it the floral scent of her shampoo tinged with vanilla. He sighed and shook his head. It wouldn’t help his plans if anyone, especially the father of the bride or the groom, caught him manhandling her. He took a step away from her. Her small hands immediately went up to her hair to make certain not a hair was out of place. Vapid, he thought as he watched her fingers work through her locks. When she was done, she drew her shoulders back and looked up at him but, for all of her bravado, she still looked incredibly fragile. It made him sick to think of that prepubescent idiot fucking her. He wouldn’t even know what to do with her, Sandor thought.

 

“I have guests,” she said, the slight tremor in her voice barely detectable. She walked around him and back toward the party. He watched her go, rage burning hotter inside his gut with every step she took.

 

-🐺-

 

He walked on the fringes of the crowd, speaking quietly into his cell phone. He’d wanted to leave right after the ceremony but Ned had insisted that they stay for a reception. And yet, instead of having a first dance with his bride or listening to his best man make up some speech about how happy he hoped the two of them were together, Jon had spent the better part of the last two hours repeating how glad the Targaryens were to have joined the Stark family, how he was sure this would be a fruitful partnership and that the families would be working together in every way. He didn’t think he’d spoken so much to so many people in years. He had a headache, and it wasn’t being helped by the man he was talking to. Harry Hardyng, a cop on the payroll, had no leads as to who attacked Myrcella.

 

“I’m sorry. She fought back, hard. There’s skin under her fingernails, but there wasn’t a DNA match in the system. We won’t know anything more until she wakes up and can tell us what happened,” Harry explained. Jon cursed and told Harry to make it his top priority. “Why does it matter to you who did it?”

 

“It just does,” he spat, hanging up. Did there need to be a reason? He asked himself. Some dick had beaten a tiny woman like Myrcella to within an inch of her life. He needed to die, end of story. Besides, the churning in Jon's gut was telling him that this had something to do with him. Maybe one of his enemies had seen him out at Smoking Log with her. He felt his chest tighten when he imagined this guy picking Sansa to send his message instead. He tried to shake off the feeling of guilt and convince himself that it probably had nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t. His eyes searched the room for Sansa.

 

His gaze had always found its way back to her while they spoke to the guests. It was hard for him not to watch her. It was like a spotlight had been trained on her; everyone was in awe, even the women. Everyone was pleasantly enjoying her company, but he'd noticed that though her mouth was spread in a wide smile throughout the day, her eyes were drawn tight at the corners. She didn't want to be making small talk anymore than he did. He'd watched her slip into the house a few minutes ago, he assumed for the bathroom. He made his way over to the door so he could wait for her to come back out. The door opened and, quietly as she'd left, she moved to weave back into the crowd.

 

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked softly. She turned toward his voice and stared at him for a beat.

 

"Yes, please," she breathed as she smiled gratefully up at him.


	5. the first day of my life

Sansa twirled the helmet in her hand gingerly, chewing her bottom lip and shifting her weight. Jon, who was leaning against the seat watching her in amusement, hid his smile behind his hand.

 

He didn’t know whether she was afraid of riding on a motorcycle or just worried about the long slit up the side of her dress. Now, Jon considered himself a gentleman, noble even sometimes, so despite how he longed to feel her firmly pressed against his back, he’d asked her whether she’d wanted to take the car or the bike. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t given an opinion and let him decide… again. So, he thought he’d just wait her out until she admitted that she couldn’t straddle the bike in that dress.

 

She put her weight on her right foot and looked up at him, her teeth gliding across her lip. She’d tried to give him free reign but really, he couldn’t have chosen the car? How was she supposed to do this without completely embarrassing herself?

 

“Do you want to take the car? We can if you’re afraid of riding,” he said innocently. Sansa’s jaw twitched.

 

“No, that’s okay. I’m right behind you,” she said, signaling for him to get on first.

 

He swung his leg over and sat down in an almost graceful movement. She strapped the helmet on her head tightly and took a small breath. He watched her legs slowly become visible as she lifted up the sides of her dress. She swung her leg over and settled onto the seat with the faint sound of fabric tearing, her dress dangerously high on her thighs. She fit her body against his. She slid her hands around his waist and pressed herself against him, letting her heat meet his. He could feel her soft but firm breasts on his back; he swallowed a groan and started the engine.

 

“Where to?” he asked.

 

“Wherever you want to go,” she murmured, feeling a twinge of annoyance. He kept asking her what she thought but she didn’t want to make any decisions. She didn’t want to upset this man with the kind eyes and quiet voice, and she didn’t want to think beyond just being there in that moment. Sandor grabbing her like that had shaken her. No matter how much he’d said he wanted to, he rarely actually touched her and never where anyone else could walk in at any moment. She sighed, rested her cheek against his back and closed her eyes.

 

An hour later, he pulled into the parking garage of Nymeria Place. He loved riding. He loved the freedom of feeling the wind beat against him and Sansa seemed to have enjoyed it just as much. He turned off the engine and she hopped off of the bike after him, exhilaration lighting her eyes. He smiled back at her while she followed him to the elevator. He’d picked this place out specifically for its security and the central location in town. A popular diner was only a few blocks away as was the hospital which unfortunately he frequented in his line of work. He’d given the responsibility of decorating to someone else though. Shopping had never been his favorite pastime. They stepped onto the elevator, and he gave her a nervous look. The place was definitely smaller than she was used to but the view of the city from the balcony was spectacular and it was more space than they actually needed.

 

The elevator rose and her curiosity raging, Sansa asked, “What are we doing here?”

 

“it’s home,” he answered. “If you want it to be anyway.” She nodded wondering for a brief moment why he had decided to forgo having a honeymoon. She shook that thought away. It was better to start a routine now than to go on a vacation and not know how to interact when someone was expected to cook and clean besides the housekeeper and chef. “We’re in the penthouse on the top floor,” he continued, stepping off the elevator. “We have the whole floor so if you want a bigger place, we can break down some walls. Just let me know.”

 

She nodded and walked through the proffered door. She scanned the room, walked through the kitchen and upstairs rooms, loving every inch of the place and finding a fully stocked walk-in closet for her. There wasn’t an array of gadgets or fine photography cluttering the place. It was simple and cozy. The only drawback she could find was that she wouldn’t have a library any more. Jon had followed her while she inspected the penthouse. She’d walked around the place neither giving sounds of appreciation or disapproval. Finally, back in the living room, she turned to him with a wide smile.

 

“You like it?” he asked, relieved.

 

“I love it, but…”

 

“We can redecorate if you want,” he interrupted.

 

“Oh, no, it isn’t that. I just… noticed that there are extra rooms.” She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. He sat beside her with his arm draped across the back of the sofa.

 

“Yeah, if you ever want to have guests or have to take in any strays,” he laughed. “I swear every other week there’s another friend in need my best friend or sister are bringing home to get back on their feet which only annoys the rest of the family. The Snow side of things is pretty chill but being around the Targaryens is always chaotic. Don’t worry, though. We’ll try to avoid them as much as possible.”

 

“it must be nice though. It’d never be boring.”

 

“True, but I’d rather it be quiet.”

 

“So, the Snows are your mom’s side of the family?”

 

He shook his head. “My dad’s. The Snows are big in the business world, so when my dad started _his_ business he didn’t want to ruin that. He took an old family name instead.”

 

“Mmm. How many sisters and brothers do you have?”

 

“Just a brother and sister, Rhaenys and Aegon.”

 

“Are they part of the business, too?”

 

“No, Rhaenys is a nurse and Aegon, well, he left town a while ago.” She watched him expectantly and he shrugged. He’d never liked telling people about the accident, seeing the pity and concern enter their eyes. “A few years ago, Aegon was driving. He was drunk and hit a tree. He was fine. I wasn’t the same after. He blames himself more than I do, and it’s tough for him to be around now.”

 

“That’s awful. Were you close before the accident?”

 

“Fairly. He’s in nearly every good memory I have. But, after, it was like he was always looking for signs that I was still me, and I got tired of trying to figure out how the old me would have responded. Anyway, what about your family?”

 

“Uh, it’s just me and my dad now. My mum died when I was three.”

 

“What happened?”

 

She wound her fingers together absently. “She was murdered.”

 

“Jeez, I’m sorry. Did they catch who did it?” She shook her head. “There weren’t any leads?”

 

“No. It’s why I’m so protected now, why I haven’t been able to go out. Whoever did it is still out there.”

 

Jon was silent for a moment. How could there have been no leads? It usually wasn’t hard to figure out which enemy was behind an attack with rival families tending to brag about their high-value kills. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” he said.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Your guard, Sandor, right, was talking to me about your security today. When I’m here, I can protect you, but when I’m working, I’d feel better knowing you’re safe. I know with my guys, I trust them, and you must feel the same about your guards. So, I ran it by your dad and he doesn’t mind your guards still protecting you.”

 

Fear surged through her. “Ahem, I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out. I’m sure your guards are more than capable.”

 

“I don’t mind,” he said with a smile, oblivious to her panic. “You know them, and they've protected you well so far.” There was a small pause. “I want you to be comfortable here."

 

After a companionable silence in which they both settled more comfortably on the couch, he asked, “Does your father ever talk about her?” He had positioned himself much closer to her since they’d first sat down, less than an arm’s length away. “Your mother,” he responded when she looked at him curiously. She blinked and appraised him for a moment. She rested her neck on the curve of the sofa and held her knees closer to her chest.

 

“In passing. He’ll reference her but most of what I know about her is from what I can remember.”

 

“Do you remember a lot? I mean, you were so young,” he said shifting just a bit closer.

 

“Bits and pieces mostly, but they’re enough considering. Apples and peaches were her favorite so she always smelled sweet and citrusy. She never wore make-up but she was beautiful, and at night, when my father was on business and after she’d thought I’d already fallen asleep, she’d just sit in my room, humming a lullaby and knitting.” Her tone was wistful as the images from her past replayed in her mind’s eye. As if the film had reached its crescendo, her eyes filled with despair and her face was crestfallen. She cleared her throat and gave Jon a weak smile. “Then she was gone.” And she’d been surrounded with somber guards who quieted her at the slightest noise rather than the mother who could drag her father away from business to play a simple game of hide and seek. “Why didn’t you want to take a honeymoon?” she asked, changing the subject.

 

It was just as well, he thought. He was so close to wrapping her in his arms and trying, though he knew it would be in vain, to ease the pain she carried inside her. That sort of heartache never went away. His own mother had abandoned him and his father a long time ago. When he was younger, he’d blamed first himself and then his father, but he’d come to understand that his mother had been young and fickle. No amount of money could have tied her to a small boy and a father battling cancer. Rhaegar had miraculously been in remission since his fight against prostate cancer but by then it was too late. Lyanna was already gone.

 

“Jon,” Sansa murmured when he didn’t respond.

 

He gave his head a slight shake and said, “I didn’t see the point. It wouldn’t be a real honeymoon, would it?” His voice lowered sardonically. Blushing, she lowered her gaze.

 

“I’m your wife, Jon, and you’re my husband. Of course it would be a real honeymoon.” She tugged on her earlobe nervously and dropped the soft, unsure tone to adopt a more businesslike manner. “That is, if you’d find that agreeable.” Her heart beat fast, knowing she was essentially offering herself up to him. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. As she’d said, he was her husband after all but it was a bit humiliating. What if he wasn’t attracted to her or if she couldn’t please him the way a wife ought to? And what if she did? Would he expect her to perform those ‘wifely duties’ anytime? Maybe, she’d want him to. He was gorgeous and even the thought of him hovering above her, his hard flesh on her soft skin, sent a wave of heat through her. Her puckered nipples pressed against the silky fabric of her dress.

 

He watched several things pass through her expressive eyes: uncertainty, determination and a hint of desire as she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. His body responded quickly, his cock stirring in interest. Her blush had crept down the smooth skin of her neck. He wondered how far it traveled but he daren’t take her up on her offer. He couldn’t, could he? He may have fantasized about taking her on every surface of this penthouse, but she gave off an air of fragility and submissiveness. She could only be saying what she thought he wanted to hear, and if he acted on her words, he could end up hurting her. His stomach turned at the thought of seeing a shadow he caused cross Sansa’s beautiful face. He shook his head slowly.

 

“You don’t have to… We should get to know each other more, I think, ahem.” She gave him another one of her long, assessing looks before slowly standing up, doubled over in front of the couch, giving him an amazing view of her ass. She slid the table until it hit the wall and turned back to him, already shimmying out of her dress.

 

“Don’t think. Act. Touch me,” she commanded in her sultry voice. The dress fell at her feet to reveal deep red negligee consisting of a lace bra and thong. She kept her heels on she started leisurely walking toward him. He swallowed in surprise. In none of his fantasies had he imagined that Sansa would be this forward. He definitely liked it, he thought, moving to stand in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, a chapter full of jonsa!


	6. let me in

He stopped a few inches short of her, close enough to run his hand up the length of her thigh or fit it across her stomach but he resisted. He wanted her to feel comfortable doing this and know that it was her choice. Shit, even that she had a choice. That meant she had to take the lead. it meant that he couldn’t rip the thin fabric of her thong and enter her with the ferocity she inspired in him. He simply couldn’t turn her over, give her plump ass a firm slap for being a dirty girl. No, he told himself, he wouldn’t do any of those things but even as he stood absolutely still before her, his cock grew in response to his thoughts.

 

Her eyes traveled down the length of his body, pausing at his erection pressing painfully against his slacks. A small intake of breath and her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips. He was big, so big she worried that it might actually hurt. Her brows furrowed but she looked up at him, focusing on the lust and patience mingling in his sky blue eyes.

 

“We could wait months, years even. I -”

 

“Touch me,” she repeated, her voice lower as her desire grew. He didn’t move; she repeated it again, this time with a touch of impatience. His intent gaze was a caress against her cheek, her breasts, stopping at the mound between her thighs as hers had on his sex.

 

“How? Show me,” he whispered. The slight tremor in his voice and his hand as he extended it to her was the only evidence of how close he was to losing control and playing out every fantasy he’d had of her ever since he’d seen her exquisite eyes.

 

She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, shoving the straps down her arms and throwing it aside, exposing firm, perky breasts. His hand twitched. He longed to rub the pad of his thumb over her nipple while tweaking the other with his teeth. He wondered what sounds she would make then. She was already breathing deeply, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She took his hand and guided it to her neck. He kept his hand loose while his fingers grazed her collarbone, her nipple, her stomach and over her bellybutton. She shivered, running his hands across her pantyline.

 

She felt a surge of wetness. It had never felt like this. She’d never been so wet or ready for someone so soon. She turned his hand over and brought two of his fingers into her panties with hers. She slid him over her nub and into her folds, letting her juices coat his fingers. He groaned when he felt her hot pussy. Her eyes, dark with lust, met his. She slid one of his fingers inside of her hole and clenched her walls around him though it wasn’t necessary – she was already so tight.

 

Just as quickly as she’d slipped him inside, she took him away from her warmth. She held his hand in front of her face and blew on his fingers softly. Slowly, her tongue led one of his fingers into her mouth, and she sucked off her juices. His cock jerked and he thought he might come right there. He tried to list the names of all the players on the Night’s Watch but nothing could take the edge off of his arousal.

 

Sansa herself felt her knees weaken. She lifted his hand to his own lips and ran the other finger along his mouth. She’d always loved the taste of her sex on a man’s lips. He drew his top lip into his mouth, groaning at the her peachy flavor. In that moment, he didn’t know what he wanted more: to have his tongue buried deep inside of her or to be inside of her, feeling her tight, hot walls clench around him as he came. She lifted herself on her tiptoes and tasted his bottom lip with her tongue as she kissed him. His tongue entered her mouth firmly, swirling with her own. She melted into it, her body moving forward until her hardened nipples were pressed against his chest. She could feel how much he wanted her as his cock thrust against her belly. He’d kept his hands at his side, continuing to let her take the lead.

 

He didn’t know how much longer he could last, and he’d be damned if he came before her. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered gruffly.

 

She licked her lips and a sexy smile played on her lips. She’d had a few fantasies of her own of what her wedding night would be like. Some had been terrible but most had left her wet and unsatisfied. “Rip off your shirt.” His hands reached at the sides of his collar and ripped open the shirt. The buttons flew and he shrugged himself out of it. She moaned and hastily, her fingers found the top of his slacks. She undid the button and unzipped his pants. Tugging down the sides, his cock sprang free, even bigger than it’d seemed in his pants, a bit of pre-cum dripping from its head. She straightened herself up, and her breasts felt the heat of his chest, causing a guttural moan from both of them, his hands coming to her waist. With heavy-lidded eyes, she looked up at Jon and panted, “I need you. Fuck me.”

 

He didn’t need any other command. Their touches had been lit flames across their skin and now there was only one way to curb the flames. He lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist, his dick pressing against the thin panty line and her juices heating him through the fabric. He carried her over to the desk, and she nibbled on his shoulder, impatient for him to be inside of her. In case he didn’t understand her urgency, she moaned, “Now. Jon, I need you inside me now.” He groaned and sat her on the desk’s edge. His fingers reached down and easily snapped the sides of her underwear, leaving nothing between them. He held the tip of his cock at the base of her opening. He reached behind them to sweep the telephone, files and laptop off of the desk. The movement brought him further inside of her. Her fingers dug into his back a bit painfully. “Deeper,” she heaved.

 

“I know, baby,” he said. “I know.” He withdrew completely earning him a moan of protest that brought another bit of pre-cum to the surface. She leaned forward to pull him on top of her but he stood straight and pushed her shoulders back onto the desk. He needed time to calm himself down to come with her and not on her thigh.

 

Near a frenzy, her legs sought to wrap around him and draw him nearer to her center. It had been so long, too long.

 

Positioned between her legs, he held her legs at the back of her knees and rubbed the tip of his dick slowly against her hard nub. Her moans grew louder and, Jon being too far away for her to touch him, her hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading them, pinching the nipples. They continued like this, their grunts and moans mingling with each other in the empty room. Sansa kept her bottom lip between her teeth to stop herself from begging. He brought the head of his cock inside of her and removed himself just as quickly, continuing to rub himself against her clit. She shuddered, and she knew the first wave of her orgasm was near, her hips moving of their own accord now. Her legs trembled and sensing she was near, his hands tightened on her legs. He thrust all of himself inside of her trembling core.

 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” she panted. Her climax took her, her hips bucking against him. “Jon.” He reached down and cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing tightly and pinching the nipples almost painfully while ramming his cock deep and hard inside of her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, on and on, it went. Her nails found his ass, urging him deeper with every thrust as she moved to meet him.

 

Her walls tightened even further around him and with a grunt from him and another high-pitched moan from her, a sheen of sweat on both of their bodies, Jon came with her. He shook as he collapsed on top of her, his lips covering hers.

 

A minute later, Sansa was still trembling from the after effects of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Jon lifted himself lazily off of her and carried her over to the couch where he laid her on her back so he could admire the beauty of his wife’s body. He laid on his side, against the cushions of the couch. She reached her hands up to drag a blanket over her nakedness. He caught her hands there with his right. Her eyes widened and her hips wiggled in anticipation.

 

“Keep your hands there,” he said, releasing them. She kept them above her head, jutting her breasts out for him. Using what she’d taught him about her body, he traced her pantyline with his finger, earning himself a shudder and a tiny intake of breath. “You’re so proper and put together. Look at you,” he said in amazement. “You’re already ready for me again, aren’t you?” She licked her lips and parted her legs slightly in answer, her eyes dark. He grinned and kissed her lips passionately, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. Jon needed a few minutes to be ready to take her again but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He deepened the kiss as a reached a hand down.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon reached for his cell on the nightstand. He’d ignored the last three calls, choosing to watch the beauty beside him sleep instead, but he couldn’t avoid work any longer. They had stayed in their bed for hours, hands gently caressing each other’s bodies, only leaving their king-sized bed to grab a quick snack in order to have more energy to continue their exploration. She slept soundly in the crook of his arm; even in her sleep, her brow was furrowed with tension. In the hours that they’d spent together, he’d quickly realized that she didn’t like to talk about herself, preferring to listen to him speak. Though she was quiet, he was starting to be able to read some of the thoughts that passed over her face.

 

His phone vibrated again. It was Sandor.

 

“Snow,” he said, flipping the phone open.

 

“Mr. Snow. It’s Sandor, Sansa’s head of security. I wanted to continue our discussion from yesterday.”

 

Jon peered over at his new wife, smoothed her brow gently with his thumb and gingerly slipped her head off of his arm. He left the room and padded down the hall barefoot to sit on the top of the steps. He couldn’t understand why this was urgent enough to merit four calls the day after his wedding. Certainly, he could be trusted to keep Sansa safe for a day or two until he was able to get back to Sandor.

 

“I’m listening,” he said simply.

 

There was a small beat of silence. “Is there something you’d rather be doing?” he asked irritably. “I had assumed that keeping your wife safe would be your top priority. If I’m mistaken, let me know, and I’ll just discuss the terms with Sansa myself. That might actually be preferable.” It was the perfect excuse to see her again. It had only been less than a day since she’d left the mansion, but it was far too long for his liking. Since she was three, there was never a time that he wouldn’t be able to see her if he chose to. Being separated from her now was unbearable.

 

Jon’s thoughts were along the same lines for a completely different reason. A vision of Sansa, attacked like Myrcella had been, flashed through his head. His jaw clenched. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his softly-spoken wife with the large sexual appetite. “That won’t be necessary. What do you suggest?”

 

“Well, the security here was very tight. She stayed within the grounds and a guard was with her at all times. Except for in the bathroom, of course. If she went out on the grounds, there were at least two guards with her, preferably three.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “She had a guard with her all the time?” he asked incredulously. Jon couldn’t imagine never having a truly private moment. She had the bathroom, but it wasn’t the same. A person needed to be able to breathe in their own space, read naked if they wanted, do a silly dance because no one was watching, and simply be. Even when he was a child, the guards had stayed outside his bedroom door. As he grew, he needed the protection less and less. He was a lethal weapon himself now, and he could subdue any threat.

 

“Yes,” Sandor answered. “It may seem invasive, but it worked. She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

 

“Right.” He ran a hand over his face. “We always have guards posted at the door and, when I’m with her, I’ll protect her. I’ll have to talk to her about when I’m not.”

 

Sandor chuckled darkly. “You can’t expect Sansa to understand things like this. It’s best we decide what’s best for her.” Jon felt anger pulse through his veins. Not only was this man absolutely patronizing but he spoke about Sansa like she was incapable of rational thought. Granted, Jon hadn’t known Sansa that long but, from what he’d seen, being logical and hiding her emotions were her fortes.

 

“Jon,” Sansa said tiredly from behind him, “come back to bed.” He turned and took in the view of his wife – God, he loved calling her that, knowing that she was really his – barefoot in one of his black t- shirts with her hair falling around her shoulders.

 

He nodded, said, “I’ll get back to you,” and hung up the phone. She didn’t ask who he’d been talking to or what it was about. She merely turned around and walked back into the bedroom, curling herself under the blankets. He slid in beside her and she settled herself against him again.

 

Across town, Sandor stood still in his office, his hand tight on the phone handle.  _ Come back to bed?  _ She’d really given herself to him so easily? Rage boiled in his veins, heating his neck and reddening the unscarred half of his face. After all of his warnings, his punishments, she hadn’t learned. She was still a whore, untouchable as he’d made her to everyone else. He ripped the phone from the wall jack and threw it across the room. He punched several holes into it, wishing he was pushing his fist into Jon’s gut.

 

It was supposed to be a business arrangement in name only. Who had given her permission to whore herself out to the first man she came into contact with? He reached into his wallet and pulled out the most recent picture he had of Sansa. It was from the night before her wedding. Tears were streaming down her face, her eyes wide with fear. Although it wasn’t evident in the photo, her mouth, her whole body had been trembling. That night would be nothing compared to what he’d have waiting for her next punishment.


	7. keeping you safe

Though neither had expected it, the beginning of the marriage was surprisingly easy. It helped that their companionable silences were interrupted by mind-blowing sex. They learned the art of pleasing each other. Sansa didn’t talk much; Jon often wondered what cast shadows in her eyes when a frown would pucker her eyebrows or her eyes grew distant, but he learned not to ask. Even if he was her husband, he didn’t feel comfortable prying. It was her decision whether she wanted him to know what she was thinking.

 

And sometimes, dread pooling in his stomach, part of Jon didn’t want to know. He looked down at Sansa who was lying in his arms facing him on the bed. What if it wasn’t anything about her past? What if she didn’t want to be married to him? His arms tightened around her instinctively.

 

Sansa’s eyes flew up to his face, noting the tension around his eyes. She reached her hand up and smoothed his furrow with her thumb. “When do you need to go back to work?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know yet. A friend of mine was attacked. Once I find out who did it, I’m going to need to take care of it.” She nodded and brought her arm around to run her fingers along his spine.

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I will,” he said, smiling down at her. “So, what do you want to do today?”

 

“I can think of something,” she smiled, moving a bit closer to him. He chuckled and turned her around so that her back was against his chest. He brought his hand up to her breast to tweak her nipple.

 

“As much as I want to stay in bed with you all day,” he said, kissing along her shoulder gently, “if you’re going to be my partner, there are some things you should know before I get that info back on the attack.” She leaned further into his touch and nodded. She then pulled away and sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket around her chest. She turned back to look at him over her shoulder regretfully. Her mouth twisted in deliberation for a second before spreading into a small smile, her eyes heated as she sucked on her bottom lip.

 

“Later,” she said. Jon watched her walk into the bathroom and heard the lock click. He sighed and looked down at his hard cock, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut about the business part of things for another hour or two.

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa came downstairs in what she thought was an appropriate outfit for finally taking her place at Jon’s side in the business: skinny jeans, flat boots, a loose t-shirt and a leather jacket – all in black. She taped a dagger to her calf and tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans. She met Jon’s eyes to see him looking at her with a frown though he was wearing almost the same exact thing. She looked down at herself and back up at him.

 

“Is something wrong? Do you want me to change?”

 

“No, it’s just… I didn’t think you could get any sexier.”

 

“Oh,” she said, a blush heating her cheeks. “Thank you. So, should we go?” she asked after a moment’s pause. He cleared his throat and nodded, opening the door for her.

 

They walked onto the elevator and Sansa tapped her foot idly as it descended. He watched her surreptitiously beneath his lowered lids. She didn’t seem nervous, but he couldn’t help wondering if she was a bit anxious. Maybe he was just projecting, he thought, rolling his eyes. After his talk with Sandor, he couldn’t help but notice how soft and fragile she was, but he shouldn’t think of her that way. She’d been trained to do this just as much as he had been. She wouldn’t thank him for worrying needlessly over her, treating her as less than. She looked up at him, and Jon’s eyes shot away.

 

“Ahem, so, I’ll just bring you to the warehouse and introduce you to the guys, that sort of thing. We should also stop by the hospital. I only found out my friend was attacked at the wedding, so I haven’t been able to find anything out myself. I might get something the guys didn’t.”

 

-🐺-

 

Ramsay stalked into Smoking Log, furious that it had taken Shireen this long to tell him that Myrcella had been admitted. She’d never approved of their relationship, the bitch, but didn’t she think that he might know something about what had happened?

 

He didn’t know much about what Myrcella did when she out but, he knew her favorite spots, and Smoking Log was one of them. He scanned the room and quickly found Hot Pie leaning against the jukebox chatting up a long-legged brunette. Hot Pie liked hitting on almost every woman who walked through the door. With his unassuming manner, it usually worked. A muscle in Ramsay’s neck pulsed as he imagined the man putting the moves on Myrcella.

 

“Hot Pie, we need to talk,” he said tersely. The brunette looked up at him, startled by his aggressive tone.

 

“Why don’t you come get me when you’re done?” she asked seductively.

 

Hot Pie watched her walk away and turned to Ramsay with, “This better be good, man. With the mood she’s in, I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t go upstairs with another guy before you’re done with whatever the hell you want.”

 

“Myrcella comes in here a lot –”

 

“Now, now, what happens at Smoking Log stays at Smoking Log. You know that. If you’re looking for dirt, I’m not your guy,” he said. Ramsay followed him to the bar where Hot Pie poured a drink for a regular.

 

“I know what she does here, and I don’t care.” Hot Pie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a smart man. I do but not at the moment. She’s in the hospital and she probably met whoever put her there in here.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that. She hasn’t been in here for a while, bro.”

 

“Please, Hot Pie, just tell me what you know. She’s really banged up. She hasn’t even woken up yet.”

 

“Alright, alright, but you didn’t hear this from me,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Last time she came in, she left with Jon Snow. He isn’t the type to beat on a woman, but his enemies usually are.”

 

Ramsay nodded and thanked him for the information by dropping a few hundred dollar bills on the counter. His jaw clenched as he stepped outside into the glaring sun. He wanted to blame Snow because just talking to Myrcella had made her a target, but he couldn’t. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. And he’d failed.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon opened the car door for Sansa, and they walked toward the warehouse. “Sam’s the tech guy. Tormund’s my right hand, and Edd and Grenn are the best bodyguards you’ll ever find. Most of the weapons are here, so this is pretty much our central.”

 

“Your dad runs everything though, right?”

 

“Yeah, he makes all of the big decisions, but he takes my input. One day, I’m going to take over, so that helps, I guess.”

 

“You don’t sound happy about it,” she observed.

 

“I’d rather do what I do now than get into the politics end of things. My dad tries to keep us out of wars, but that involves a good mix of ass kissing and grandstanding. I’ve never been good at either.”

 

Sansa moved to open the door of the warehouse, paused and turned to look at him. She considered him for a moment and asked, “Can I tell you what I think?”

 

“Of course,” he said, surprised and curious.

 

“Being good at the ‘politics end of things’ is what keeps people alive. It’s just as important to master as hitting a mark a hundred yards away.” Her shoulders hunched forward slightly, and she averted her eyes. “If you don’t try, the wrong people end up with all of the power.”

 

"You're right. I’ll learn to be good at it,” he said in a determined tone. She nodded and exhaled slowly, releasing the tension she'd felt. Realizing it was the first time Sansa had given let alone offered her opinion on anything outside of bed, Jon smiled widely and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for telling me that."

 

When they entered, Sansa immediately noticed how cold the warehouse was. There were shelves of boxes presumably filled with future shipments. The large room held only a metal table and chair that she could easily imagine a man dying in. The concrete floor with a drain and stone walls only helped to fuel that image. She drew her shoulders back and walked in further.

 

“Where are the weapons?” she asked, because there was no way they could be kept where any hostage could reach it if he or she somehow managed to escape. To the left, there was a line of offices, but only one light was on.

 

“Come on,” Jon said, leading her to a long room on the right. He opened the door and Sansa fought to hold back a gasp. There was every type of gun lining the walls and shelves of bullets beneath them. There was one gun hanging above all of the other more modern weaponry. She picked up a 19th century .44 caliber derringer and sighed. She turned it back and forth in her hand and smiled. He watched her admire the gun and couldn’t help but smile with her. Not everyone knew the beauty of an antique gun. Usually, the men preferred the new ones, the bigger the better.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she crooned. 

 

“It was my great-great-grandfather’s. It’s been passed down from father to son ever since. Don’t worry; there’s one for the women, too,” he said nodding to an old rifle. “Story is he bought the derringer for his wife when he was going off to war, but she didn’t see the need for it. A rifle scares more people off than it would, so she’d never actually have to hurt anybody.”

 

“I can see her point,” she said.

 

“Mmm,” he assented. “And over here,” he said, pointing to the right wall, “is everything you’d need to set a bomb. There’s some chloroform and untraceable poisons, but we usually stick to the guns. We have an excellent cleanup crew.”

 

She chuckled. “It’s an impressive collection.”

 

“Thanks.” She put the gun carefully back on its hook and followed him out to the offices. He rapped on the door once and opened it without waiting for a response. Poking his head in, he asked, “Busy?”

 

“No, come on in,” a soft female voice said.

 

Sansa’s brows rose in curiosity. He hadn’t mentioned any women working for him. They walked in the office which felt much cozier than the main room. It was decorated with abstract art, carpet and held two desks. She recognized Jon’s best man, Tormund, who nodded in greeting and leaned back in his chair.

 

The woman who’d spoken was about the same age as Sansa though a few inches shorter with full, black hair. She extended one perfectly manicured hand. “You must be Mrs. Snow. I’m Shae.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Sansa said taking her hand. “You can call me Sansa.”

 

“She’s with Tormund. And, even though she shouldn’t be here at all, she usually is. More trouble than she’s worth,” Jon said. He shook his head and looked at Shae in mock disapproval. She laughed and went over to his side, giving him a small hug. “More trouble than she’s worth,” he said over her head. She elbowed him lightly and turned to Sansa.

 

“He adores me.” Sansa smiled and nodded, unsure of what to say. “Well, come on, how was the wedding? I wouldn’t have to ask but I wasn’t invited. Better yet, how was the honeymoon? Was the sex good, better, worse than you thought?”

 

“None of your business, Shae,” Tormund said. “Jon and I have business to discuss. I’ll see you at lunch.” She walked to the door, pouting, but paused to look pointedly back at Sansa.

 

“She stays,” Jon said.

 

“What?” she cried. “I should be able to know anything she does.” She took a few steps back into the room. Jon blocked her path and put his hands gently on her shoulders. Sansa looked away uncomfortably.

 

“Shae,” Tormund warned. “You know it’s better for you if you don’t know what goes on.”

 

“Plausible deniability, right?” Jon asked.

 

“Then what about her?” she bit. He didn’t have an answer for that that wouldn’t offend Shae. She was a capable spy and fiercely loyal to both him and Tormund. Keeping her apart from the business was more about her narrowly escaping death and the effect that had on Tormund than any lack of skill on her part.

 

“Don’t worry about her,” he said simply. Her lower lip jutted out further, and Sansa had to fight the urge not to laugh.

 

“Shae, please,” Tormund said. Something in his tone made Shae sigh and let Jon walk her out of the office. “And don’t try to eavesdrop,” he called after her before the door closed. He turned to Sansa. “She’s the reason all the rooms are soundproof.” Sansa chuckled softly. “But how was the honeymoon? I didn’t expect you back to work so soon,” he said, giving Jon a curious look.

 

“We have to find who attacked Myrcella. I need to be able to give Shireen answers and,” he said, his eyes shifting to Sansa, “I don’t want the bastard to have the chance to do it again.”

 

“Well, we’ve got guards on her at the hospital. She hasn’t woken up yet, so there’s no new info. I don’t see the point in cutting your honeymoon short to chase down leads we don’t have,” Tormund said matter-of-factly.

 

“I’m sure your friend will appreciate it anyway,” Sansa told Jon who gave her an appreciative look. She leaned against the desk she was sure was Jon’s before turning back to Tormund. “If you give us a list of who you’ve talked to, we can go check if they’ve remembered anything.”

 

Tormund was a bit taken aback. He was usually the one who did these sorts of things with Jon. Could he seriously be thinking of letting Sansa join the business after what had happened to Shae? He handed her the notes on the case but gave Jon a look that said they needed to talk later. Women had no place in this business. They only became targets.

 

“Thank you.”

 

She flipped through the small notepad. Jon sat beside Sansa on the desk. She scanned the last page of the notepad, her brows furrowing slightly. It seemed that this woman had a boyfriend that no one had spoken to yet. “Is there a reason no one’s gotten in touch with, uh, Ramsay Bolton?” she asked, her eyes meeting Tormund’s.

 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. It was her first day, and she was already questioning the way things were done as if they hadn’t been doing this for years. He caught Jon’s expectant gaze and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Since Jon had gotten that picture, he had known his friend was a goner, but he’d never thought that it would go this far. Sure, she was beautiful – gorgeous, really, with her long, red hair, lean frame and soft curves. If she wasn’t already taken, he wouldn’t mind forgetting that he was with Shae. She was all business now, but he’d seen her at the reception with a slit in her dress so long, she could have been an escort.

 

“Couldn’t reach him,” he said. She nodded and set the book down on his desk.

 

“Want to try again?” she asked Jon, turning to him.

 

“Sure,” he said.

 

Tormund noted the eager way he spoke and jumped off of the desk, nodding quickly before he followed his new wife out of the room. Tormund sighed and put his feet up on the desk. He didn’t appreciate feeling like he was on the outside. He was Jon’s second-in-command; it’d been like that since they were children. When Rhaegar finally retired, he wanted to be the one to take over. Jon liked being in the thick of things anyway. He didn’t want to make any of the hard choices, but Tormund didn’t mind that. He only hoped that Sansa coming into Jon’s life wouldn’t ruin any of his plans.

 

-🐺-

 

“Sorry about Shae. I know that was a little awkward,” Jon said as they got into the car.

 

“No, she seemed nice. So, your friend was attacked, dropped off near the Wintertown Hospital, and she hasn’t woken up since, right?” He nodded. “It seems strange that she’s been unconscious for, what, four or five days, and the man who loves her is nowhere to be found. You’d think he’d be by her bedside every minute willing her to wake up.” She put her feet up on the dashboard and looked across at him. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, unless he’s trying to find whoever did this, too. It’s what I’d do.”

 

“Really?” she asked, her face scrunching up a little. It was completely smooth by the time Jon glanced over and nodded.

 

“If someone ever hurt you,” he began, his tone resolute, “I’d make sure they couldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t be able to sit and wait while that bastard was still out there.”

 

She’d realized he was a much better man than she’d had reason to expect he’d be, and they’d been getting along well. Yet, they hadn’t known each other long, and she was surprised that he was so angry at the idea of someone hurting her. Maybe it was just the idea of anyone daring to cross him, she thought. Sandor was like that. He didn’t care if she was in pain – on the contrary, he relished the opportunity to see her suffering – but he’d be damned if anyone else had a hand in it. She had a flash of a lamp hitting the floor and a gunshot ringing out. She closed her eyes briefly against the memory and looked out the window.

 

“It’s good we’re going to see him either way,” he continued. “If that’s why he hasn’t been around, we can put our info together. We could figure out who did this. If it isn’t, he’s probably our guy.”

 

“Does he seem like the type to do something like this and just disappear?”

 

“I never met him.”

 

“Oh, I thought… since you two are friends, I figured you’d have met her boyfriend.”

 

“Ahem, we haven’t been friends long,” he said uncomfortably. She looked away from the passing buildings. Her gaze slid over his face. Her eyes narrowed at his expression and surprise again touched her features.

 

“You and her are…?”

 

“No,” he said unnecessarily loudly. “I mean, we did. Once.” He watched her anxiously from the corner of his eyes. “It was before I even met you.” He kicked himself mentally. He hadn’t even thought of how he’d met Myrcella or that it might upset Sansa to find out that they were interrupting their honeymoon to help someone he’d slept with.

 

“How long before?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone. He cringed.

 

“The night before.” He bit his lip and peeked at her again. She was staring ahead, her head tilted. He opened his mouth to apologize but she voiced her thoughts first.

 

“And a week later, she’s in the hospital. Could be Ramsay wasn’t too happy when he found out about it. It’d explain him not being around as well.”

 

He observed at her curiously. “You aren’t mad?”

 

“Huh?” she asked, turning to him. “About what?”

 

“Well, me being with Myrcella.” They pulled up to the address they had for Ramsay; it was the same place he’d dropped Myrcella off that night. She pressed her lips together for a moment. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset. Her face was a blank mask. When she spoke, she was soft and businesslike.

 

“I’d appreciate it if, in the future, you can be discreet for appearance’s sake.” She felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him being with another woman that she stamped down. Even after the last few days together, she hadn’t imagined she could demand his faithfulness. He’d eventually tire of being with the same woman and find some other bed to fall into. Why wouldn’t he? She hid the hurt she felt by averting her gaze.

 

Jon stared at her, stunned. He didn’t think he’d ever felt stupider or more presumptuous. He’d assumed that because they had such amazing chemistry, because they could barely keep their hands off of each other since the wedding and, somehow, they complemented each other in and out of bed that she’d also want to be monogamous. His father had said Stark wouldn’t stand for his daughter being cheated on and after he’d seen the picture, he couldn’t picture ever wanting to. He took her in while she watched him, waiting for a response. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why would she want to be tied down to one man, a man she hadn’t even chosen for herself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an open marriage... there's a thought.


	8. learning to fall

She tried to stop herself from fidgeting while they waited for Ramsay to answer through the intercom. Her training had been thorough, including looking over details of past solved cases her father or Sandor had worked on, but this was the first time she would be able to question the people involved and gauge their reactions herself.

 

She was filled with nervous energy not the least of which was due to the talk in the car with Jon. The moment the words had left her mouth, she’d wanted to ask if he wouldn’t mind being trying monogamy, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She simply couldn’t. Sansa took a steadying breath and rang the doorbell again.

 

“Do we know what Ramsay does for a living? It wasn’t in the notes.”

 

He leaned against the banister with his arms crossed tightly, surveying the neighborhood. It didn’t seem nearly as dangerous in the daylight, but he hoped that nobody tried to bother them. He didn’t know why he’d thought that they’d be keeping their vows, but he had and he hated knowing they wouldn’t. Had she given him those few days together as a courtesy? Was she already seeing someone? Would she kiss him goodbye before she left to meet him? Questions raced through his mind, his muscles taut. All he wanted to do was punch something or someone. If he could find whoever she was seeing, he’d make sure they never looked at her again, he thought with grim satisfaction.

 

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Jon, do we know what he does for a living?” she asked again.

 

“No.” A crease formed between her brows as she watched him. He was practically livid.

 

“Do you want to call Tormund and find out?” she asked more cautiously. “It’ll help to know if it’s a day or night job.”

 

He nodded and flipped open his cell phone to call him. He walked down the steps toward the car. He didn’t want to take his bad mood out on her. After all, it wasn’t her fault he’d filled his mind with fantasies of them someday falling in love and making this marriage real. She hadn’t asked him to like her. In fact, she’d held back so much maybe she didn’t even want him to know her. He sighed and put the phone to his ear.

 

“What does Ramsay do?” he asked when Tormund answered.

 

“He works construction.” He rattled off an address.

 

“If you know where he works and you know where he lives, why the fuck haven’t you been able to question him, Tormund?”

 

“Relax. Whenever we stopped by, he wasn’t there. Besides, Hot Pie says he worships Myrcella. He didn’t do this.”

 

“You didn’t think to tell us that before we came all the way over here?”

 

“Okay, first, I didn’t know who you were going to talk to. Second, what’s got you so pissed off?” Jon sighed and looked up at Sansa.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Sure, you’re not. Say hello to Mrs. Snow for me,” he laughed and hung up. Jon shoved the phone back into his pocket and called up to Sansa.

 

“He should be at work.” She skipped down the steps to his side.

 

“What stopped them from talking to him there before?”

 

“Same reason parents cross the street when they see any of us. The police may not be able to prove it, but everyone knows we’re in the mob. His boss is probably protecting him, and Tormund didn’t think it was important enough to send someone people don’t know is working for us in.”

 

“Oh.” He moved to go to the driver’s seat and she slipped into the car, sliding the belt across her chest and putting up her feet, tapping them idly on the dashboard. He turned the key in the ignition and ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. “Is everything okay?” His eyes shot up to hers. “You just seem... tense.”

 

“I’m fine.” She swallowed a sigh but quirked an eyebrow. He obviously wasn’t fine. For a moment, she hoped that it was because he wanted what she did but then she reminded herself that now that she knew about Myrcella, of course, he would not have to hide how much he was worried about her.

 

“I’m sure I can get his boss to let me talk to him if you want to go visit Myrcella,” she suggested quietly.

 

“No, let’s just find who did this.”

 

“Right,” she muttered darkly, thinking of how he’d said he couldn’t sit and wait bedside and that he’d have to be out looking for the culprit.

 

“I’m sorry. What’s your idea?” he asked, fighting to make his tone lighter.

 

“No one knows me. Figured I’d just walk in and ask for him.”

 

“What makes you think he’ll help you? He’ll be suspicious now that the guys have already been by.”

 

“Okay,” she said. They drove in silence for a few minutes. His eyes slid over to her, and he felt a jolt of fear as he saw that she was crying.

 

“It isn’t a bad idea. It’s really good actually. I’m sure it’ll work,” he said anxiously. “Do you want to go home? We could just relax and start on this later.” He rubbed her back a little too fast to be truly consoling, trying to balance comforting her and driving. “It’s going to be okay.” 

 

He was about to pull over and take her in his arms when she said, “Shh, please.” She bit back a small sob and then rubbed the tears away roughly. He brought his hand to her hair, pushing a stray stand behind her ear.

 

"Please tell me what's wrong," he said. Just as suddenly as she'd started, her tears stopped, and she opened the passenger mirror. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. "Sansa, are you okay?" he asked gently. His eyes ran over her frantically and he searched his mind for the right words to say to fix whatever had upset her.

 

"See," she said. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to him. “He’ll help me,” she said smugly. His eyes widened as he caught on and his mouth fell open.

 

“Now, that’s just scary.” She grinned and he shook his head, taking a deep breath to slow his heartbeat and ease the heaviness in his chest. Seeing her upset had undone him. There was no way she wouldn’t be able to get past Ramsay's boss to question him.

 

-🐺-

 

Ramsay turned at the sound of a woman’s nervous giggle. His boss was holding her hand to keep her balanced as she maneuvered walking on the rocky terrain in her high heels.

 

She was glad that she’d thought to bring the pair with her. It’d given him an excuse to walk her over to Ramsay, and, on the way, he’d filled her in on some of Ramsay’s history with Myrcella. “Thank you. The last thing I need right now is a broken ankle,” she said, looking up at him and dazzling Mors momentarily with a bright smile.

 

The man blushed scarlet and stammered, “It’s no trouble at all. You let me know if you need anything else.” They stopped in front of Ramsay, and he began walking backwards, his eyes fixed on the auburn-haired beauty. She smiled her thanks. When he was several feet away, she brought her attention to Ramsay, extending her hand to him.

 

“Hello, I’m Sansa Stark.” He looked at it for a second before slipping off one of his work gloves and taking it in his broad one. Beneath her silky skin, her grip was surprisingly firm.

 

“Ramsay Bolton. What can I do for you?”

 

“I’m investigating Myrcella Baratheon’s attack a few days ago.” She kept her tone friendly, but he sensed the no-nonsense demeanor underneath. “I’d really appreciate any help you can give me.”

 

He scoffed lightly. “You should be talking to Jon Snow.”

 

“Why’s that?” she asked suddenly hyper-aware of the earpiece she wore.

 

“I didn’t find out what happened until today, but I stopped by Smoking Log and apparently she was with him a week or so ago. Everyone knows that Jon Snow has enemies who target the women around him. If you’re looking for who did this, start by asking him who the most recent psycho in his orbit is,” he said disgustedly.

 

She stayed silent for a minute, considering him. “It took you some time to know she was injured. You two live together, don’t you?”

 

He sighed and sat on a pile of wooden floorboards. He rubbed a hand over his face as the reasons formed a fist around his heart. “She cares about me. She has such a big heart it’s hard for her not to love everyone she meets, but she stopped loving me in the way I want her to a long time ago. She only stays with me, because she’s worried about what I’d do if she left,” he said. A tear escaped and he brushed it away quickly, inhaling sharply and looking this stranger in the eye. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him confess what he’d been fighting so hard to keep from himself. He’d known that fear had stopped her from leaving on more than one occasion, but he’d never allowed himself to admit that it wasn’t just that his love for her was greater than hers for him but that she didn’t love him at all anymore. He cleared his throat and tried to speak steadily around the lodge in his throat.

 

“What is Myrcella afraid he’d do?” Jon asked in her ear. She opened her mouth to ask but Ramsay continued with, “When she didn’t come home, I’d thought she left me. That’s why I didn’t know if she was in trouble.”

 

He looked completely devastated. Her hand lifted helplessly before falling to her side. “It’s hard to admit it’s best to let the person you love be free,” she said softly.

 

“Yeah, it is.” He reached into his pocket and handed her his card. “Could you let me know what you find?”

 

“Of course,” she said, slipping it into the back of her jeans and turning to leave. He moved forward to help her get across the rocky ground but she held up a hand. “I can make it.” Her pace was brisk. When she was out of his earshot, she said, “It wasn’t him.”

 

In the car, he rolled his eyes. “Uh, he sounds obsessed with her which is exactly the type of guy who could lose control and hurt her without meaning to. Then cover it up.”

 

She opened the car door and hopped in. “Trust me, Jon. He didn’t do it. You didn’t see his face. He might not have been a very good boyfriend, but he could not have put her in the hospital.” He assessed her for a moment.

 

“You seemed like you knew where he was coming from. About letting someone go.”

 

“Oh, well,” she began, shrugging, “I guess I do.” He watched her and waited. She looked out the window and tapped on her knees with her fingertips. She could still feel his eyes on the back of her head, and, eventually, she let out a small huff and met his dark grey eyes. “A few years ago, I fell for one of my guards. We hid how we felt. It wasn’t exactly the plan Sandor or my father had for me, and that made it dangerous for him.”

 

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

 

She leaned her head back, and her voice was slightly sentimental as she recounted how they used to dream about running away together. “One day, Willas said we should just do it. He had some money saved up, and we could go somewhere they couldn’t find us and just be together, but I was too scared.” He reached forward and took her hand in both of his. She gave him a big smile he could almost believe was real and brought the conversation back to the present. “So, I get it. He wasn’t mine to have just like Myrcella isn’t Ramsay’s no matter how much he wants her to be.”

 

He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

 

“I always knew it wouldn’t last,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.

 

“Still.”

 

She looked down at their hands together in her lap. “But you still think Ramsay did it?” He nodded, and she raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Let’s make it a wager.”

 

He stifled a sigh. She could cry at the drop of a hat when she was fine and look like she’d just been asked the time of day when he knew she was hurting. If it wasn’t so frustrating, he’d admire her ability to switch moods so quickly. Maybe he’d even find it endearing. He never knew how to act around her and could only guess at what she was really thinking. It was never boring, though.

 

“What do I get if I’m right?” he asked.

 

“Anything you want.” Her voice was husky and low. “But the same goes for me,” she added before his smile could spread too widely. He laughed. It didn’t matter. He was sure either way, he would win and he already knew exactly what he’d ask for.

 

-🐺-

 

It was close to 11 when they finally walked onto the elevator of Nymeria Place, feeling completely defeated. They had driven around Wintertown, trying to interview anyone who had spoken to Myrcella in the days before her attack. They’d even stooped to simply stopping random people in the places she frequented to ask them when they’d last seen her. They had worn themselves out. Still, there was no new information. Sansa sighed and pressed her fingertips on her forehead in a vain attempt to ease the headache forming there.

 

“We’ll find something soon,” Jon said though he was starting to believe that they wouldn’t learn anything until Myrcella woke up. It had to be Ramsay. He'd hit her before, never as badly, but violent men sometimes escalated. He just needed the evidence to prove it.

 

It had now been two weeks since the attack. It was strange that no one had seen or remembered anything relevant that could help find who had done this. He didn’t think he’d ever been on a case that had no viable leads a week in, yet he couldn’t give up.

 

Sansa didn’t acknowledge that he spoke. She merely rolled her shoulders and neck and stepped off of the elevator. She had just walked through the doors and stopped short so suddenly that Jon almost bumped into her. “What is it?” he asked, placing his hands on her arms. She shook her head, and he looked around the corner. Sandor had finally sent over Brienne and Gendry, Sansa’s old guards.

 

She watched Jon walk over to them and shake their hands. She turned her head, her eyes swiveling around the short hallway, but it was empty. Sandor wasn’t here. When it had taken so long for the guards to come, she’d assumed that Jon had decided his own guards would be enough. It didn’t matter, she told herself. It wasn’t Brienne or Gendry that she was afraid of. Even under Sandor’s strict rule, they had both tried to protect her in their own way. Nevertheless, no matter how much they wanted to help her, they were Sandor’s spies and she knew that somehow he would use their place in her life to torment her. She took a deep breath and set her shoulders back, walking over to them.

 

“Stay out here unless Sansa or I say otherwise. Just make sure no one comes through this door that isn’t on the list,” Jon said. They nodded, only betraying a hint of surprise that Sansa would also be giving orders. She smiled faintly. “When Sansa is going out by herself, you’ll shadow her and make sure she’s safe. That’s about it. We’ve had a long day, so we’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Good night,” she said, walking into the apartment with Jon at her heels. He locked the deadbolt and shrugged out of his jacket. She sank down onto the couch and kicked off her boots. “I didn’t know they were coming today,” she commented. She lay on her side with her knees close to her chest nearly fitting onto a single cushion.

 

“Yeah, with everything going on, I completely forgot to tell you. Sorry,” he said tiredly, sitting down beside her. He tugged on her feet and put them in his lap. They had barely slept since they’d thrown themselves into the case. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep tonight, but Sansa needed her rest. His brain already going over every detail of the case, he pulled off her socks and began massaging her feet. She closed her eyes and settled herself more comfortably on the couch.

 

“Whoever did this didn’t meet her at her usual places,” she said, continuing their discussion from earlier. He nodded and pressed his thumb into the groove of her foot. “Mmm, you’re good at that.”

 

“Thanks. Just relax. We’ll work on it tomorrow, okay?” She nodded and let his fingers work the tension out of her feet. Ten minutes later, she opened her eyes lazily to see him smiling down at her. “I thought you’d fallen asleep,” he murmured. She shook her head and sat up. She was quiet for a moment, staring into the darkness.

 

“Six cracked ribs, a punctured lung, a brain bleed, and her face is barely recognizable. We haven’t even seen her but I can’t get it out of my head. Imagining what she had to go through, the monster who did that to her… When she wakes up, she shouldn’t have to worry that this bastard is still out there ready to do it again.” Her voice was calm but he could sense the current of fury running underneath. He looked at her carefully and took her hand in his.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“What?” she asked her eyes narrowing.

 

“Why this is upsetting you so much. You don’t even know her,” he said gently. She pulled her hand away and curled into the far corner. He’d thought she wouldn’t answer him at all when her quiet voice filled the dark room.

 

“People get hurt around me... and there’s never been anything I could do about it. I don’t know Myrcella, but this is the first time I have the power to stop it, Jon.” Her heart ached and she took a deep, calming breath. “It’s important to me, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he said softly.

 

-🐺-

 

Shireen pushed a hair out of Myrcella’s face and tucked it behind her ear. Her breath was even and her closed eyes roamed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a sandwich from her lunch bag. Robert had been by every day, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk much. His voice would break and, if she could hear him, he didn’t want her to hear him cry.

 

So, Shireen had taken to spending her lunch breaks with Myrcella as much as possible. It was quiet here with the noise from the machines fading into the background. It helped to imagine what crazy response her bubbly cousin would have had as she talked. It helped to forget that the longer they waited for her to wake up, the greater the chance of her not waking up at all.

 

She unwrapped her BLT slowly, looking down at it intensely. “I miss you.” She turned her head to look at Myrcella. “I miss you,” she repeated, her eyes filling with tears. “Uncle Robert and I, we need you, and I know that after what happened, you don’t want to come back. I’m sure it’s better in there, in your mind… but it’s not better for me. All these years, you thought I was the strong one, the one with my life completely put together but I’m not. I’ve always needed you more than you need me. I need your laughter, you calling about a fashion emergency,” she said giving a watery laugh. “I just need you around, and Robert does too. He’s had to say goodbye to Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen, and you can’t let him lose you too. You can’t.” Shireen leaned her head into her hands and sobbed. She sat like that until her throat was hoarse and the tears were a silent river on her cheeks.

 

“Mmm,” Myrcella groaned in pain. Shireen’s eyes shot to her, standing up quickly and hovering over her face, the sandwich forgotten on the ground. Myrcella’s face was screwed up in pain. She moved a hand to her face which had healed somewhat while she was unconscious. The swelling had gone down, but the bruises and cuts had not faded completely yet.

 

“Myrcella, don’t worry. I’m right here,” she said, taking hold of her hand. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re in the hospital.”

 

Myrcella opened her eyes slowly, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights. She motioned for some water, and Shireen hurriedly poured her a cup and brought the straw to her lips. After several sips, she leaned her head back and asked, “How long have I been here?”

 

“Three weeks,” she answered hesitantly. With head traumas it was difficult to find how much the patient remembered, and it would only upset Myrcella to hear what had happened to her if she didn’t. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

Fear crossed her eyes and she nodded silently. “Is she okay?”

 

“Who?” Shireen asked, startled.

 

“The other woman.”

 

-🐺-

 

“You know what I was thinking?” Sansa asked, walking up behind the couch Jon sat on and leaning her mouth down to his ear.

 

“Hmm?” he asked. He threw one of the many papers he was surrounded by onto the coffee table and pored over another. Too much time had passed since they’d gotten new information on Myrcella’s attack. They thought there must be something they were missing. It was rare for a woman to be attacked so brutally by a stranger, especially as Shireen had told them that Myrcella hadn’t been raped. He’d have thought it was an especially heinous mugging, but he’d met her at Smoking Log and been to her house. There was nothing about her that said she was carrying more than the bus fare home.

 

Sansa stood straight and rubbed his temples lightly. She’d noticed that he was prone to headaches and did this whenever he was stressed. “I’m thinking that we’ve been too wrapped up in this case.”

 

He leaned his head back to look at her. “You want to find this fucker as much as I do, Sansa, so just let me do it.” His tone was laced with exasperation and irritation. Her hands dropped down to his shoulders. She knew it wasn’t directed at her but at the lack of information but she couldn’t stop the quickening of her heartbeat. She took a small breath and rubbed on a knot at the base of his neck.

 

When she felt her pulse steady, she replied calmly, “I do. I’m only saying that we’ve been breathing this case for weeks. We need to take a step back and get some perspective. She’s safe for now, and we’re no good to anybody worn out, Jon.” He sighed heavily and took her hand in his. He led her around the couch by it until she stood in front of him. She placed it back on his head, lacing her fingers through his hair gently. He closed his eyes and let her touch soothe him. As her hand cupped his face to stroke his cheek gently, he turned his face and kissed her palm.

 

“I’m sorry I snapped,” he murmured against her skin.

 

Her mouth fell open in silent surprise and quickly shut. She shouldn’t be surprised. He never raised his voice at her or lost his temper with her even when he was incredibly frustrated. Her life with Jon was a welcome change from constantly being on her guard even in her own bedroom. He was kind and gentle and when he held his face against her stomach and wrapped his arms around her waist, her heart swelled with emotion. For the first time, she let herself feel safe in his arms.


	9. to be brave

He pulled back and looked up at Sansa. Sometimes, at moments like these, how absolutely beautiful she was would hit him and it felt like his heart skipped a beat. Her hair was framing her face loosely and her light eyes were open and inviting. She gave him a small, slightly nervous smile as he continued to stare at his wife. He felt trapped; his eyes were locked on hers and on the tip of his tongue were words that he was too much of a coward to say, words that he’d felt when she took that book out of his hands and told him in her sweet, gentle voice that it was her favorite.

 

“You know, you don’t have to apologize to me. Things are crazy with Myrcella in the hospital and no one knows if she’ll wake up and we’ve been focusing on this so much that we haven’t really had a chance to do anything else,” she rambled. “It’s normal to be frustrated and overwhelmed and…” Jon placed a finger to her lips and stood, never breaking eye contact with her.

 

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he chuckled.

 

“I don’t get nervous,” she said quickly. His smile widened and he threw his head back, laughing loudly. “Jon Snow,” she yelled, tackling him onto the couch. “I do not get nervous! I’m the epitome of calmness and… chillheadedness.”

 

“Chilllheadedness?” he asked, laughing louder. She smiled at the sound of her reward. “That’s not even a word.”

 

“Shut it,” she muttered, tapping him lightly in the ribs before her fingers danced across his stomach, tickling him. He begged her to stop and tried to shift his torso away from her hands. He squirmed beneath her and they both fell off the couch with Sansa’s back hitting the floor with a small thump.

 

“Shit, are you okay?” he asked.

 

“Perfect,” she grinned and cupped the back of his neck with her hand. “I cannot believe you are ticklish.”

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, leaning down and placing a kiss at the base of her throat.

 

“Persuade me,” she whispered against his lips when he pulled back to look at her. Feeling tired and overworked were not the only reasons she had wanted to take their minds off of the case. Sure, it would help to look at everything with fresh eyes but, really, since they had let themselves be consumed by worry and frustration over this case, neither of them had given a second thought to having sex. And she wanted him badly.

 

He searched her eyes, and he could see the need in them. It had been maybe two and a half weeks since he’d realized they wouldn’t be exclusive, two and a half weeks since she’d asked him to touch her, but even that was too long. He was about to bring his mouth down to hers in a tender exploration when his phone trilled loudly. Before he had a chance to ignore it, she had already dropped her head back onto the floor and smiled in resignation. He kept the same position but grabbed the phone and placed it to his ear.

 

“Snow.”

 

“Myrcella’s awake. She’s okay and she remembers! Can you come down here and talk to her?” Shireen asked excitedly. Jon looked down at Sansa who was chewing on her bottom lip absently.

 

“Uh, maybe you want to spend more time with her, let her rest before –“

 

“No, I want you to come now,” she said indignantly. He sighed. It was one of the reasons things hadn’t worked between them. She was beautiful and loving but incredibly bossy. She wanted things her way and, if someone didn’t agree, she would look down at them from her perch with that disapproving glare. He kissed Sansa’s forehead and leaned back to sit on the floor.

 

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up wanting so badly to fling the phone across the room. All he wanted to do was stay here with Sansa. “Myrcella’s awake. We should go to the hospital.”

 

“I think you should go alone,” she said. She sat up with bent knees, resting her forearms on them. She had never thought all the happiness could drain from her so quickly. His girlfriend, mistress, whatever she was, was awake and most likely asking for him. She was probably confused because he wasn’t there when she woke up. “She just got out of a coma. I’m sure she doesn’t want to meet your wife right now.”

 

He shot her a quizzical glance. “She and I…” He purposely hadn’t said ‘us.’ “It was –“ She held up her hand to stop him from saying any more.

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jon. Discretion implies that I don’t want to hear the details.”

 

“Damn it, Sansa,” he spat. “Fuck discretion!” Her eyes widened at his tone. She had heard him angry about the Myrcella situation, but this was the first time she’d heard him become absolutely livid.

 

She inched back from him, standing up and crossing the room to rest her hips against the desk. Was it really too much to ask to not hear about this woman who had been in Jon’s bed before she was, this woman whose beating they were tirelessly working to avenge? She thought she’d been incredibly reasonable about the whole thing.

 

“I thought you could respect me enough to keep these things to yourself. I’m so sorry I was mistaken,” she said fighting to keep her voice level.

 

“How about you try respecting _me_? Or our vows?” He shook his head at her in disbelief. He grabbed his jacket from the closet and shrugged it on. Every move he made was laced with the urge to hit something. His fists clenched and slackened.

 

He took a step toward her and she knew that this was it. He was going to hit her. Why had she thought she was safe with him? Every man was just like this. They had tempers they wouldn’t control. They were possessive and so convinced in their own entitlement that they were capable of anything. Her mother’s death had taught her that. Sandor and even Willas had as well. She refused to look away from Jon now. All at once, she felt utterly defeated, too much to even brace herself for the coming blow.

 

Jon, oblivious to what Sansa expected to happen next, took another step toward her. He moved to cup her face, and she flinched. Violently. He jerked away from her. Her teeth bit into her lower lip like she was trying to stifle a cry. He stared at her in open shock at what she’d thought he’d do. Tears sprang into his eyes and he looked away from her. She hadn’t even tried to defend herself.

 

He let out a shaky breath. When he was calm and looked back at her, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He wished she would but it didn’t matter. He needed to say this. “Whatever you do, whatever we argue about, however angry I am, I would never raise a hand against you, Sansa. I would never hurt you. That’s not in me.”  His voice was gruff with barely restrained emotion.

 

“I know that. I do,” she breathed. “I just…” Her fingers twisted together helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

 

His shoulders dropped as he took her in. You’ve been hit before, he wanted to say. By whom, he wanted to know. Instead, he said, “It’s alright if you don’t.”

 

She stepped forward.. “I do. I just got scared, and… I forgot. Just for a moment. I know it doesn’t make sense.” She bit her lip again. “I trust you.”

 

“Alright.” He took in her steady gaze, her stillness, seeing her silences in a new light. “You need to know you have options. I care about you. Ever since I saw that damn picture of you, I wanted to get to know you. I, I wanted to be with you. I thought that because we were getting married, I would have a chance to build a life with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He swallowed. “I’ve been trying so hard to find this guy, for Shireen and Myrcella, yeah, but also because of that stupid bet. You said I could ask for anything, and I was going to say I don’t want to see anyone else and I don’t want you to either because I was too much of a chickenshit to tell you outright that I never expected this marriage to be open. I _want_ monogamy.” His hand found hers, her grip tight on his. “But, if it was what _you_ wanted, Sansa, I could also give you a divorce, get you away from all of this. I’d help you disappear. You could start a new life somewhere.” Far away from anyone who’d ever hurt her.

 

He waited a beat for her to say something, anything, but she only watched him with wide eyes. He smiled tentatively. “Just think about it,” he said leaving the apartment to give her space.

 

She stood there, still, for a while after he’d gone. He was furious but he hadn’t hurt her. His earnest expression was imprinted in her memory. She had been right about him. And he cared about her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be with _only_ her. A smile spread across her face and she let out a small laugh. Her fingers came to her lips unable to contain her giddiness.

 

A knock sounded on the door, and she flung it open, thinking Jon must have come back to finish their conversation. The light in her eyes died and she took a reflexive step back. She could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores.

 

“Jon will be home soon,” she said.

 

“No, he won’t,” Sandor said coming in and closing the door behind him with his foot. “I just watched him leave.”

 

-🐺-

  


Jon stepped off of the elevator and walked over to the nursing station. “Hi, I’m looking for Myrcella Baratheon’s room.”

 

“Are you family?” the woman asked not bothering to hide her suspicion.

 

“Uh, no. I’m a friend though.”

 

“I’m not at liberty to release any information on patients to _friends_ ,” she said. “Family only.” She turned away, picked up a chart from a large pile and scribbled a few notes. He sighed exasperatedly and followed her over to the other side of the station. He looked down at her nametag quickly before gazing up at her beseechingly.

 

“Osha,” he said. She fixed him with an impatient glare. “Osha, my friend was attacked. I just want to make sure she’s okay. Listen, her cousin, Shireen, is the one that called me.” Jon couldn’t believe that after demanding that he come here so late, she hadn’t even bothered to tell the charge nurse that he was an approved visitor.

 

“Again, family only. The only way you will be getting near my patient, Jon Snow, is if Dr. Baratheon comes to collect you herself.” His eyes widened at her use of his name. She barked a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve treated you enough times. I wouldn’t expect you to remember, filled with bullet holes. So, Jon Snow, you can either sit and wait for her or come back another time. Either way you need to step away from my area now or I will call security.” She reached for the phone as she spoke and he immediately did as she asked holding up his hands in an irritated surrender.

 

“Thanks for your help,” he said dryly.

 

“Anytime,” she replied just as sarcastically. He let out a huff and sat down, flipping open his cell to call Shireen.

 

-🐺-

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, backing up further into the room as he continued to advance on her. Her heart beat fast in her chest, thudding so forcefully she thought she could hear it pulsing in her ears. In the time it had taken for the door to slam shut, she’d already ruled out calling for one of her guards or attempting to get around him and leave. He would have already sent them away. Her back bumped into the armchair, startling her slightly. She closed her eyes and tried to suppress her fear.

 

Standing directly in front of her now, he caressed her neck with the back of his fingers. “I won’t hurt you,” he said softly, his eyes roamed over her face noticing the tension in her pursed lips. He could feel her fear in the vein throbbing in her neck against his fingers regardless of his assurance. But when she opened her eyes and fixed her eyes on him, her face was a cool mask.

 

“Why are you here, Sandor?” she asked in an emotionless voice.

 

He smiled to himself. He loved that about her: the way she dominated her emotions. She was so unlike her mother that way. Catelyn had been ruled by her feelings. She wept and laughed with such intensity you wondered if she would ever stop. Sansa had the restraint her mother lacked. It was a shame that she couldn’t exercise that control when it came to her body. He tilted his head as he studied her before backing up, allowing a few feet to separate them. He took a swig from the vodka bottle he pulled from his jacket pocket and chuckled.

 

“I’m not your enemy, Sansa. I’ve protected you all of your life and you don’t even have the decency to offer me a seat in your new home.” His tone was sardonic and she said nothing, merely staring at him with a now bored expression. He watched her for several moments, his breath quickening as he looked down and took in her slightly wrinkled shirt. Has she only just shoved in on? She could sense the rage growing inside him, but, still, she said and did nothing. He would do whatever he wanted and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of rattling her. It was what he’d always liked best about his punishments – getting her unfiltered reaction. He took a long swish of his drink and scoffed. “I bet you love it here,” he yelled opening his arms wide. “I bet you just couldn’t wait for Snow to get you on your back.”

 

She assessed him for a long moment. She was never going to live that night down in his eyes. To him, she would always be a whore. He was shaking his head at her as she smiled and quirked an eyebrow. If a whore was what he wanted, that’s what she’d give him.

 

Resting her hip against the armchair and crossing her arms, she nodded. “And boy, did he deliver. You know,” she said, lifting a finger in his direction, “I didn’t think it was possible to come that hard but Jon…” She inhaled and moaned a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been _fucked_ so hard. He’s like a machine. He can go _for hours_.” She took her bottom lip in her mouth, releasing it slowly between her teeth.

 

His eyes widened as she taunted him. If he wasn’t so infuriated, he could almost laugh at how clever she was. She was much more like her mother than she’d let on or he’d given her credit for.

 

“Tell me,” he ordered in a lethal tone.

 

“Tell you what?” she asked innocently.

 

“Tell me how he fucks you,” he screamed. Sansa jumped as he threw the vodka against the wall. The bottle shattered and its remaining contents spread on the wooden floor. Her eyes flew back to him, but, in the moment her eyes had stayed on the broken glass, he had closed the distance between them.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon had finally reached Shireen and she’d led him to Myrcella’s room. They stood outside the door because now that she’d woken up, she had to be examined before he could question her about anything. He looked down at Shireen and again wondered why this could not have waited until the morning. As if sensing his thoughts, she looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.

 

“Thank you for coming. I’m sorry about the wait. I know I dragged you out in the middle of the night. It’s just when Myrcella woke up and told me there had been another woman…” she shuddered. “I just wanted you to come and find this guy.”

 

“Another woman?” he asked surprised.

 

She nodded. She spoke as if each word took an enormous amount of effort. “I don’t know much. Obviously, Myrcella’s health takes priority. After the beating she had, I wanted to make sure she was okay first, but there was another woman.”

 

“Shit,” he breathed turning and putting his back against the wall. “Well, was anyone else brought in? Does Myrcella remember if she’s okay?”

 

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and shook her head. “She’s dead.”

 


	10. the sacrifice

Sansa’s eyes were panicked as he stood in front of her, an inch away. She knew she had gone too far. Sandor didn’t take even the slightest misconduct lightly let alone her cursing at him and brazenly teasing him. She swallowed and started as he grabbed her neck. He dragged her over to the desk, brushed the phone onto the floor and slammed her back into it. Her hand gripped his, trying in vain to tug it away from her. She whimpered and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sound. He brought his mouth down to her ear, feeling her breasts against his chest. “You will show me some respect.” She nodded quickly and he released her, taking a step back. She gasped as she caught her breath and rolled onto the floor in the coughing fit that followed.

 

Sandor sighed and lifted her up much gentler than she would have expected. He set her on her feet and ran his fingers through her hair. He brought it around her neck and brought his eyes to hers. He felt a surge of respect for her when he saw that there were no tears. It had always taken much more to make her cry. He rubbed his hands on her shoulders and took a step back from her.

 

She watched him, her lips pressed together and her neck aching. This marriage had taken her out of the house he ruled but it had made him more dangerous to her. Every time she saw him, he grew more violent toward her. He lifted up his hand to her face and she flinched away.

 

The door flung open. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned around to see who had interrupted them. Sansa peered around his shoulder as well. They both found Gendry there with his gun drawn.

 

-🐺-

 

“Is Myrcella going to be okay?” Shireen asked as the doctor stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

 

He gave her a sympathetic look. “She’s present but we won’t know anything certain until we get the results from the MRI and CAT scan. She looks good, though,” he said reassuringly. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him for a beat before going to the door. Theon’s eyes followed her. He wished he knew how to make this better for her somehow. He could only hope that Myrcella’s films were clean. He looked over at Jon who was still leaning against the wall.

 

“Jon, how do you know Myrcella?”

 

“I’m a friend.” Theon nodded.

 

“And are you here as a friend?” he asked pointedly.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“We should go in,” Shireen said, oblivious to Jon and Theon’s conversation, “while she’s still awake.” She moved to push the door open.

 

He rolled his eyes. “We all know what you do. Jon Snow, ‘restaurateur’ and residential hit man. I don’t care what you do with your own life. Lord knows it’s given me enough practice in the O.R. but I need to know whether you’re here as Myrcella’s friend or as the one who’s going to badger her with questions so you can kill who did this.” Jon gave him a blank stare. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“This isn’t up to you.”

 

“I wouldn’t even let the police question her, and you’re not a cop.” Jon sighed. “Now I won’t have you jeopardizing my patient.”

 

“Theon,” Shireen said, turning her head, “Jon needs to speak with Myrcella tonight.”

 

“I don’t think so.” Jon rubbed a hand across his face. “She just woke up from a coma,” Theon retorted his eyes incredulous. “This isn’t up for negotiation. I won’t have anyone jeopardizing my patient by causing her undue stress. End of discussion.”

 

She crossed her arms and took a step toward him. “What about my cousin’s attacker could come back here and do it again do you not understand?” she asked, her tone furious. Jon shook his head at Theon, trying to warn him to just back down.

 

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his tone softening, “but before we get the scans back, we won’t know what’s happening in that beautiful head of hers and that means that too much stress could be fatal. I’m sorry.” His eyes shifted to Jon. “You are not speaking with her tonight.”

 

Shireen opened her mouth to continue arguing but Jon cut across her. “I understand. Would you call me when it’s safe to talk to her?” Theon nodded. “I’ll see you later, Shireen.”

 

“Jon!” He was already walking away from them, shaking his head and loosening his shoulders. He could have been with Sansa instead of dealing with this shit. He couldn’t believe that he’d wasted his time coming here when he’d known that after what Myrcella had been through, she would need to rest. Shireen had insisted but now he had driven out here, almost had security called on him and been talked down to by some stuck-up doctor for nothing. “Jon, please  –“

 

“I’m going home, Shireen," he called behind him.

 

-🐺-

 

On his way to the penthouse, Gendry had tried to convince himself that he was being ridiculous. Sandor had been protecting the Starks longer than he had even been alive. It was all of their jobs to make sure Sansa was safe and whoever had murdered her mother didn’t have a chance to strike another blow at Stark. It was the excuse Gendry had given for Sandor’s overbearing orders when he’d first taken the job. It wasn’t until that day on the stairs when he’d seen a glimpse of something in Sandor’s eyes after Sansa had slapped him that Gendry took notice of the unnatural way he watched her. In his eyes, there was a puzzling mixture of hatred, genuine affection, and desire.

 

The more he mulled over the situation, the more couldn’t shake the feeling that something was truly wrong. He realized that whenever Sandor gave both Gendry and Brienne the night off and took over guarding Sansa, like he had said he would tonight, Sansa was different after. It wasn’t that she was quieter because she only spoke when she felt it was absolutely necessary but her silence was somehow heavier. He couldn’t explain it to himself but that was what had led him here tonight.

 

Sansa skirted around Sandor and held a hand out toward Gendry who stood in the doorway with his gun aimed directly at Sandor’s heart. “Please put the gun away.” He lowered it but did not holster it. His eyes scanned her quickly, looking for any sign that Sandor had tried to do something to her. She looked back at Sandor and then met his eyes exasperatedly. “I said put your gun away,” she said, her voice ringing with authority. His eyes darted to Sandor but he did as he was told. Once it was away, she crossed her arms and shook her head at him. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing?”

 

His neck jolted backward. “I heard glass breaking and screaming.”

 

“I’ve known this man all of my life. He’s allowed to vent around me. You overreacted.” He tilted his head toward her, truly taken aback. Whatever he had walked in on was not someone innocently venting to a friend. From Sandor’s domineering stance over Sansa’s lithe frame, Gendry did not want to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t barged in when he did. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sandor had grabbed her. He looked at Sandor who lazily watched the scene. His eyes drifted back to Sansa. “Apologize,” she said in a barely audible whisper. Her eyes were pleading. His brows furrowed and he found his gaze torn between the two of them. Something wasn’t right here, but, again, as much as he hated it, he followed her instructions.

 

“I apologize, Sandor. I heard the yelling and just reacted.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.” Sansa breathed a silent sigh of relief, some of the tension leaving her body. He sounded sincere, and she prayed that would be enough to keep him alive.

 

“No, you would protect her from anyone as you should. It’s what you’re paid for.” He looked over at Sansa. “But why are you here?”

 

“Snow called me over,” he lied. “He’s on his way and wanted to speak with me.” Sandor assessed him staring into his eyes. Gendry stared back, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. After several seconds, Sandor nodded.

 

“Thanks for the talk, Sansa. We’ll do it again soon,” he said, smiling widely and walking out of the door. Neither Sansa nor Gendry missed the threat beneath his friendly tone.

 

Sansa walked forward slowly, resting her head against the door as she closed it and took several slow, deep breaths. She knew that outwardly, she looked unaffected but she was rattled. For years, Sandor had never physically abused her but now it seemed that each time she saw him, he was more violent. He’d grabbed her at the reception when every other time he’d tormented her, he had made sure to do so privately. Keeping these punishments a secret didn’t seem to matter to him anymore. For so long even her father had been unaware of what Sandor did those nights but she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this hidden and that scared her more than anything else. When secrecy was an issue, you had to be careful. You had to make sure you didn’t draw attention to yourself. Without it, anyone and everyone could be at risk. Jon… if he knew, she was sure he would cringe away from her, disgusted. She bit her lip blinking rapidly to keep her eyes dry. It was ridiculous. She barely knew him but somehow, she realized, he had snuck past her defenses. She cared about him, too.

 

“Are you alright, Sansa?” Gendry asked quietly behind her causing her to jump and whirl around.

 

Lost in her thoughts, she had forgotten he was still here. She smiled reflexively. She’d had enough practice making it look real over the years. He watched her with a confused expression as she said in a completely calm voice, “Of course. I appreciate you coming by but it wasn’t necessary.” She reached behind her and opened the door, leaning against it by the knob. “Thank you.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her dismissal of him. “You should tell me what’s going on. Sansa, I can help.”

 

“Okay.” She walked toward him leaving the door open. Her tone was deadpanned. “He came over. I won’t discuss his personal life with you but he was upset. He vented. You came in, and you know the rest.” He tilted his head and jutted his chin slightly forward.

 

“That wasn’t what I saw.”

 

“You didn’t  _ see _ anything,” she said her voice deadly. They stared at each other for a moment and then Sansa’s face broke into another smile. “But if you want to help, you can help me clear up.” She motioned to the mess Sandor had made with a nod of her head. Gendry eyed her for another minute but then shook his head and stepped around her toward the door.

 

“You’re an expert liar, Sansa, but I know when something isn’t right. It’s only a matter of time before Jon sees it too.”

 

She didn’t respond watching him as he walked away and stepped onto the elevator. She looked at the glass, puddle of liquor, and telephone on the floor. That wasn’t what was most important, she thought, closing the door and walking hurriedly to the kitchen. She picked out a bag of green peas from the freezer, held it across her neck and hoped that she wouldn’t bruise.

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella opened her eyes and stared into the dark room. She had tried to get some sleep after Shireen had left but it wouldn’t come. The room was silent but for the steady dripping of the morphine as it traveled into her IV. It barely took the edge off of the pain but she wouldn’t up the morphine dosage until the pain was unbearable. She was lucky to be alive. When Dr. Greyjoy had listed her injuries earlier… she was actually grateful that she’d been in a coma for the past three weeks. It had saved her from experiencing the full force of the pain as she’d had to when it happened.

 

She was out of the high-risk zone for her cerebral hemorrhage but she needed to do her best to remain calm. At least Dr. Greyjoy had said her ribs should finish healing in another few weeks. The pain medication dulled it entirely. She was fortunate not to have any experience with addiction and was able to take as much as she needed. The yellowish green bruising all over her body will have faded completely in a week or so. Soon, no one would be able to look at her and know what she’d been through. She was now bald with a long stretch of stitches across the side of her head but her hair would grow back and cover the scar. She was the lucky one, she thought as her mind fell on the other woman there during the attack.

 

She never even saw the face of the woman who’d saved her. The man had been relentless. Over several days, he had continued to inflict as much damage to Myrcella as he knew how to. But the woman had begged and pleaded for him to spare Myrcella’s life. When he asked her if she would die in Myrcella’s place, she’d agreed. It was only then that he had stopped his assault.

 

Myrcella swallowed convulsively against the lump in her throat as she remembered how he had picked her up, telling the woman he would kill her after he dropped her off at the hospital. Even in her barely conscious state, Myrcella had the will to pray that this woman would simply be taken to another hospital. It wasn’t until Shireen had told her that none of the nearby hospitals had admitted a beaten woman that she knew she was dead.

 

A stranger had died so that she could live her pathetic life. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and nodded to herself, determined that she would live a life worthy of her sacrifice.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon pulled into the parking garage and hopped off of his bike. Now that he was here, his irritation at Shireen was replaced by nervous energy. Once he walked into his apartment, Sansa would tell him whether she wanted to try and make this marriage real or whether he’d be having Sam falsify documents to get Sansa out of the country. He wasn’t a very fearful man but the thought of Sansa saying she’d rather be without him was terrifying. Part of him wanted to get right back onto his bike and drive until he could find her answer in all of her nuances over the past few weeks. Maybe if he could find a moment when the look in her eyes was tenderer when she saw him or her smile was brighter he could find the courage to get on the elevator.

 

He shook his head and stepped on, pressing the button for the penthouse; he was anything but craven. Tonight, he would find out one way or the other. It was better this way, he told himself. If she couldn’t see herself with him, it was better for him to know now and work on shutting his feelings for her down.

 

A minute later, he stood in front of his door, took a deep breath and opened it. Sansa was sitting on the couch and turned to look at him with a small smile when he came in. He waved and walked further into the room to sit on the arm of the armchair. They sat in a silence he found unbearable. What was she thinking? he asked himself.

 

“How were things with Myrcella?” she asked finally.

 

“I don’t know. I couldn’t get in to see her.”

 

“Oh?”

“Doctor’s orders. Have you…” he stopped and looked away. Her brows furrowed. She had cleaned up the glass, mopped up and, as of five minutes ago, there wasn’t a mark on her. Thank God the telephone hadn’t been broken but, when he paused, she wondered if he saw something she didn’t. He cleared his throat. “Have you thought about it?”

 

“About what?”

 

“About going away.” She let out a short laugh. In the drama that had unfolded here, that conversation had slipped her mind. She thought of him while she sat here waiting for him to come home but more about the feelings she’d realized she had for him and how she could keep him safe, away from Sandor. “About making this marriage real.”

 

She walked to his side and lifted up his chin with her fingertip so he would look at her. She smiled as his eyes met hers. “The latter.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really,” she said laughing at his wide eyes and shocked tone. “I think we… complement each other.” He nodded and brought an arm around her waist.

 

“Yeah I, I think so, too,” he said cheerily.

 

“Good.” She grinned and he chuckled. He stood and she leaned into him, sighing contentedly when his arms enclosed around her. Her feelings for him were a bit frightening. She hadn’t even known him for a month but as she listened to his heart’s rhythmic beating, she knew that she would kill anyone who tried to harm him.  _ I will protect him from Sandor _ , she thought fiercely. Her arms tightened around him and she pressed her face into his chest. He rested his head on top of hers stroking her hair absently. They stood like that for a while until Sansa's hesitant voice broke the silence.

 

“Jon,” she started. His hand froze. “I care about you.”

 

-🐺-

 

With his hand on the doorknob, Ramsay shot surreptitious looks down both sides of the hallway. He knew he shouldn’t be here. He finally understood that he just wasn’t any good for her and that he needed to let her go. Someday, she would find someone who could make her heart race with just a look. She would find someone who would love her in the way she needed a man to. And he would force himself to move on. He knew all of that and yet, he still had to see her. If he couldn’t have her love, he would have to settle for her friendship if only to still be a part of her life. He entered the room and silently closed the door. It was pitch black; the shades were drawn so even what little light the moon could have given was kept out. He walked slowly, feeling his way until he felt the edge of her bed.

 

He walked to the top and turned on the bedside lamp. He knew the light wouldn’t wake her. She could quite literally sleep through an earthquake; he’d seen it once when they’d visited San Francisco last year. He placed a single red rose and her iPod on the nightstand. No one had told him when she would be released so he had searched for hours to find new music that she’d like so she wouldn’t become bored listening to the same songs over and over. He turned to look at her. Her hair was gone but she was still incredibly beautiful, her lips a soft pink. He reached up to trace them and hesitated, his hand closing in a fist. He didn’t have a right to touch her. Myrcella wasn’t his anymore. “I’ll always love you,” he sighed before turning off the light and leaving the room as quietly as he’d come.

 

She waited a moment to make sure he was gone and then opened her eyes. She was glad that he had come so late at night because while she had lain here unable to sleep, she had considered her life. Ramsay loved her so intensely it was frightening, and so she had stayed with him, but she couldn’t do that anymore. A woman had died for her. Going back to her pitiful existence where she spent her days and nights appeasing Ramsay and taking her freedoms the only way she knew how by sleeping with strangers, she couldn’t do it. She rolled her neck toward the nightstand. She gave a small smile.

 

She picked up her iPod, inserted the headphones into her ears and scrolled her songs. She hit play and closed her eyes, feeling the tears slide down the sides of her face and letting the music voice her thoughts as she forced herself to remember every moment of her attack. She hoped that she could find something to help the police.

 

-🐺-

 

“I care about you, too, Sansa. I want us to make this work,” Jon said taking a step back to look at her. She nodded smiling up at him. “I’m just happy you feel the same way.”

 

“How could I not?” she asked with a chuckle. She bit her lip against the words forming in her head. She had said enough. She didn’t want to embarrass herself or him by revealing how deep her feelings for him already were. She rose up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his lips. He leaned into it and their lips moved in sync intensifying as it continued. His hand pressed into her waist, his other between her shoulders, bringing her body against his.

 

She brought her hands to the front of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down in a single movement. It had been too long since she’d had him inside of her. She didn’t want to wait. She nudged the pants down stopping when he pulled back. “What?” she asked. 

 

He shook his head at her with a wry smile. “Not yet.” He was already hard but he wanted to take this slow. He wanted to show her how he felt. Her lips pouted and he had to put his hand to his mouth to hide his laugh. She gave an exasperated little sigh. She opened her mouth to ask why but he leaned down to suckle her neck forcing a short gasp of pain from Sansa. He pulled back, looking down at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She shook her head.

 

“Nothing,” she lied. He brushed the tender skin on her neck with his fingertips and her beat fast worrying if there was a bruise there now. Her eyes met his and, from the concern that she saw there, she knew that there was. “I took a nap and I think I just slept on it wrong.”

 

He nodded slowly not sure if a pulled muscle would leave a bruise at the base of her neck like this. She watched him stare at it, her expression innocent. After a moment he took her hand and led her toward the stairs saying, “Come on. I’ll give you a massage.” She held back her sigh of relief and gratitude. Now that they weren’t talking about their feelings or kissing, the pain had returned.

 

Sansa sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her hair into a tendril twist to fall in the middle of her neck and leaving a few strands out to frame her face. He returned with the oil and kneeled behind her on the bed. He put some in his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before he began gently kneading her muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments are all so precious to me. thank you!


	11. the days i hope to forget

“Good morning,” she murmured quietly, her voice still hoarse. Usually, he was already showered and dressed by the time she woke up though she wasn’t a late sleeper but this morning, she could feel his arm resting on her waist while the other played with the strands of her hair. Jon kissed her shoulder and held her back more firmly against his chest. She smiled but did not open her eyes. He planted another kiss on the crook of her neck. His lips traces the faded bruise there. He pulled back to look at it and Sansa turned her head in his direction, her body twisting for her back to lie on the bed.

 

She reached up her hand to stroke his cheek and he leaned into her palm. “Tell me,” he said, his voice soft yet demanding.

 

“What?”

 

“Tell me,” he repeated. Her eyes bore into his, and she knew what he was asking for in an instant. She shook her head, her eyes widening innocently.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

His exhaled slowly. “I’m not an idiot, Sansa. I massaged your neck last night and I didn’t feel any tension that you would have had if you’d really pulled a muscle, not that a pulled muscle would leave this kind of bruise. Tell me how you got it.”

 

She turned away and sat up. She kept her back to Jon as she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and said, “I already did.” He sat up, too, leaning toward her.

 

“Why are you lying to me?” he asked, frustrated. Sansa sighed and shot him an exasperated glance over her shoulder before standing up and padding to the bathroom with Jon close at her heels. “Sansa, if someone is hurting you, I’ll kill them. I will protect you but I can’t do that if you shut me out.”

 

She whirled around to fix him with a withering glare, the steel in her eyes a mix of accusation and betrayal. “I don’t need you to protect me! I can take care of this myself.” She took a step forward him scoffing. “To think I thought you respected me enough to see me as an equal and not someone that you have to watch over, someone that you can’t trust,” she spat pointing a finger at his chest.

 

“I – I do trust you, Sansa,” he said hurriedly. She tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips. “I trust you.” He considered her for a moment before he added, “But it doesn’t mean I don’t know when you’re lying or deflecting.”

 

A laugh burst from her throat as she looked at him shaking her head. “You really think you know me so well just because we’ve been fucking a few weeks? Give me a break, Jon. You don’t know anything about me,” she said in a harsh tone. She moved to slam the door in his face but his hand shot out and held it firmly open. She pushed against it with all of her weight; he slipped inside the bathroom and let the door shut. She was breathing heavily when she stepped away from it toward him with her hand outstretched behind her. “Get out.”

 

“No.”

 

“Get out!” She screamed.

 

“No!” He yelled back. They glared at each other, their chests heaving.

 

Somehow, without either of them knowing who took the first step, they were suddenly in each other’s arms, their lips meeting, and their hands feverish as they searched for skin. She tugged his shirt up over his head, his mouth immediately finding hers again in a passionate exploration while his fingers found the strap of her thong and ripped the sides. He lifted her up on the sink, their tongues sliding against each other, one of his hands tweaking her nipple roughly while his other slid up and down her wet slit. Her nails dug into his back as she moaned biting into his shoulder. Her hand slid down his back to clutch his ass bringing the erection struggling in his boxers against her mound.

 

Without ever breaking their kiss, their breath coming in short, panting gasps now, he released her breasts from her negligee as she pushed his boxers down. His head sank down to taste one, kissing her neck and collarbone on the way, her fingers gripping his hair as he nibbled on it lightly and suckled it before moving to the other breast. She pulled his head up by his hair, her tongue delving into his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to where she needed him.

 

His hands gripped both of her breasts and he pulled back to watch her face as he entered her. She gasped, her eyes closing a moment before locking on his. She began to milk his cock her walls tight around him as she moved him in and out of her slowly. Without warning, he banged into her and she let out a cry, one arm bracing herself on the bathroom mirror, the other wrapping around his shoulders. He stood still for a moment, wondering if it was too much.

 

“No, no, please don’t stop,” she moaned desperately. “Please.”

 

“I won’t, baby. Fuck.” He planted a stream of kisses on her shoulder as she nibbled on his neck. His hand found the small of her back. Holding her soft breasts to his own chest, he continued to pound into her.

 

She met him thrust for thrust both of their groans and cries filling the room. Her hand reached down. Cupping his ass, she pulled him inside of her deeper. “Jon… Oh, God,” she panted. His cock swelled and he knew he was going to come soon. He reached down and rested his thumb on her clit so that with each thrust, it rubbed over her swollen nub. Her pussy clenched around him, trembling as she came. Not a moment later he cursed as his balls emptied and he came clutching her even more tightly to him.

 

They caught their breath, holding on to each other. He lifted his head and kissed her bruised lips lightly before sliding his dick out of her. She sighed contentedly and, for a moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes and basked in the afterglow. He pulled her into a slow, deep kiss, their tongues twirling as their hands found the base of the others’ neck before he sucked on her bottom lip gently. By the end, she was breathless again.

 

“I still need you to tell me.”

 

She twisted her mouth. Her thumb ran over his lips and stroked his cheek. “Okay. I didn’t pull a muscle… but I can’t tell you what happened either. Just trust me and forget about it, Jon.”

 

He was already shaking his head. “No way. Someone put their hands on you, Sansa.”

 

“Jon.”

 

“Trusting you doesn’t mean I’m going to sit by and watch you be hurt. Don’t ask that of me.”

 

She pressed her lips to his. “You not knowing keeps us both safe.”

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella pushed her earphones in more securely and got out of bed. Moving around didn’t hurt at all with the dosage she was on. She put the iPod in her bra because she didn’t have an armband here and started shaking her hips.

 

She pointed a finger at the wall, raising her eyebrows flirtatiously.

 

She shook her shoulders back and forth alternately and tapped her feet to the beat. She closed her eyes, her neck rolling from side to side and sang along silently.

 

She brought her hands to her chest and swirled her hips as she bent her knees.

 

The background music lowered at this point and Myrcella’s eyes shot open as she heard muffled laughter.

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa sat in silence, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on the wall as Jon paced around the room. His voice had become background noise ages ago. Earlier, she had been worried for him and scared that she wouldn’t be able to keep him protected. Her eyes rose to his back. Now, exhaustion with this argument smothered that. She pursed her lips and stood, stepping around him and grabbing her jacket from the closet.

 

Jon’s brow furrowed. “Where are you going?” he asked walking toward her. He watched her put on her leather jacket and tug on the collar. She completely ignored him and grabbed her keys off of the desk. She had a hand on the doorknob when his landed on hers. She let out a breath and took a few steps back. He moved in front of her, standing with his back to the door. “Where are you going?”

 

“I don’t know. Just away from here,” she said wearily. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Is that alright with you?”

 

“We’re not done talking about this,” he replied. She bit her bottom lip shaking her head.

 

“I am.” She tried to take a step around him but he moved to block her way. Her pulse quickened and she took an automatic step back. She stared at his chest for a moment swallowing. She took a slow, steadying breath. This was Jon. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She knew that, so why was her heart hammering so thunderously in her chest? Her hand twitched at her side and she lifted her eyes to his. “Please don’t do that again.”

 

He might not be able to explain every slight change in her tone and expression and she may not be as easy to understand as the other women he’d met but he did know her. Her voice was flat and emotionless but he knew that he had scared her again. The thought clenched around his heart and squeezed painfully. She turned her face away from him and he noticed her fist tightened around the keys in her hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. Yet knowing that she was scared wasn’t what hurt him the most. It was realizing in the way her face had become a blank mask that whoever had hurt her had taught her to hide even that. What could have happened to make her like this?

 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. He ran a finger along her cheekbone lightly. “I just want to help you.”

 

She tsked. “I already told you I don’t need your help, and I told you that I can’t tell you how I got the bruise. I’ve said it again and again, Jon.” She shook her head at him. “I know you mean well but I’m done repeating myself.”

 

“Okay.” He stepped out of her way and she stood there for a moment staring at the door.

 

“Are you really going to drop it?”

 

“For now,” he answered.

 

-🐺-

 

“Please don’t stop on my account. You’re a lovely dancer,” the woman said grinning. Myrcella straightened her back and got back into her bed, one leg curled underneath her. She pulled her iPod out of her bra, paused the music and took off the headphones.

 

She focused on wrapping the cord around it and not the heat warming her cheeks. “Sorry, what did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

 

“I said you looked good dancing,” she said coming to stand beside the bed. Myrcella looked up, her eyes narrowing. She couldn’t tell if she was making fun of her or not so in lieu of a response, her eyes roamed over the woman. She was small with thick wavy, blonde tresses that stopped at her jaw. Her body was athletic but soft; she had a small nose with a slight arch, big round eyes and a full mouth, the upper lip slightly bigger than the bottom. She was beautiful. Myrcella was suddenly hyper-aware of how she must look without any hair in an oversized hospital gown over a pair of sweatpants that she’d had her cousin bring her.

 

The woman cleared her throat and shrugged. “I’m Tyene Sand. I’m here to take your statement.”

 

“How did you get in?” she asked. “My doctor said I wasn’t allowed any visitors.”

 

“Oh, you’re doing so much better that Dr. Greyjoy said it’d be okay and once I flashed my fancy badge at your guard, he let me through,” she said smiling. She pulled over a chair and sat down, crossing her legs. Myrcella hadn’t even realized that she had a guard but it was definitely something Robert would do after what had happened. She was surprised he wasn’t sleeping out there himself. “Can you tell me what you remember about the attack?” Her tone lost its humor and softened sympathetically. For some reason, it made Myrcella want to cry.

 

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Everything’s a little fuzzy. I’m not sure what happened when.”

 

“That’s okay. Just tell me whatever you can.”

 

“I don’t remember the day, but I was walking home from Smoking Log. It was late and I’d had a few beers. I didn’t have money for a cab or the bus. I was almost home  when someone grabbed me.” Tyene nodded encouragingly. Myrcella licked her lips. “He held something over my face and I woke up in this cage.”

 

“The man who grabbed you. Did you see his face? Do you think it could have been someone you’d seen at Smoking Log?”

 

“I don’t know. He was behind me.”

 

“Okay. So, you woke up in a cage…”

 

-🐺-

 

She fought not to turn around and confess everything as she opened the door. But he would never understand. She was terrified of Sandor, more so now than ever before, but she wasn’t keeping this secret out of fear for herself. Sandor would hurt anyone who got in his way. He already hated Jon for having her, and she wouldn’t give him an excuse to kill him.

 

“Sansa,” Jon called. She stopped looking over her shoulder at him. “Take a guard. Please.”

 

“I will. I won’t be gone long, just for a ride.”

 

“Okay. See you soon.” He waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. “Hey, I need you here.”

 

-🐺-

 

“I don’t know how long I was there. I was unconscious for a lot of it, but he always found a way to wake me up when it was time to start. He wanted me to feel every punch and kick,” Myrcella said, her resentful voice breaking. She closed her eyes and tilted her head trying to collect herself. She wouldn’t let him make her a victim, not again. Tyene leaned forward and placed a hand over hers.

 

She squeezed it tightly while she said, “It’s okay. Take your time.” Myrcella opened her eyes to look at her. Tyene’s mouth was set in a slight pout and she continued to watch her with soft eyes. Myrcella’s brow furrowed as she pulled her hand out from underneath Tyene’s.

 

“I’m fine.” Tyene watched her for a moment before she nodded slowly.

 

“Okay. You were saying that he wanted you to feel the pain,” she prompted.

 

“He did.” She raised her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. She sighed when she only felt flesh. “I tried to keep quiet when he hit me and that got a little easier later. Pretty soon, everything hurt so much it was hard to tell the difference between just breathing and being hit.” She paused stroking one of her hands in the other noticing how small they were. She pursed her lips and said in a hard tone, “So, yeah, he wanted me to feel it but he wanted her to feel it more.”

 

“Her?” she asked, surprised.

 

“There was another woman there. He had me blindfolded so I couldn’t see her but I could hear her. She kept apologizing. Over and over, she whispered it. Like a prayer.” She blinked quickly against the tears threatening to fall. “I knew I was going to die there. It didn’t even scare me anymore. I was just glad it was going to be over, but she convinced him to let me go. She said, ahem, she said she’d die in my place.”

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa parked the bike at the docks and hopped off of it. She sat down at the edge and slipped off her shoes. Rolling up her jeans, she dipped her feet into the cool water. There was something about water that always calmed her. Maybe it was just that she’d always had privacy when she was in it. It was her safe place. She remembered lying in her bath for hours reading and listening to music. She swung her legs back and forth and turned to look at Gendry sitting on his own bike.

 

“You might as well come join me,” she called.

 

He obliged and sat down beside her, his legs outstretched. He glanced over at her. He wanted to ask her more about last night and whether she would tell Jon but he could sense that she wasn’t in the mood to talk. She rarely was.

 

Sansa inhaled the cool air and looked out at the water grateful for the silence. Her mind wandered and she could almost hear him pleading for her to go with him. If she had, he might be alive today. It was what she had wanted after all. Willas was a good man. Whenever she was with him, she felt like she could finally breathe. They’d planned it for weeks. She would give him a few pieces of clothing at a time. She didn’t have access to any money but he had saved enough to take care of both of them. But when the night finally came for them to leave, she’d been a coward.

 

It was then that she’d seen a different side to him. So filled with disappointment and rage at her refusal to go with him, he began to accuse her of being too attached to the comforts being rich gave her. He started to pick different objects from around her room and yell, “Is this why you won’t leave? Is this what’s so important to you?” She tried to calm him down because that wasn’t it at all but he would just drop whatever it was he had in his hand down and pick up another. She tried to shush him but he wouldn’t hear her. Finally, his hand struck out and threw her lamp against the far wall. The door burst open with a loud bang. There was a single shot fired.

 

“No!” she’d screamed raising her tearstained face to see Sandor standing in the doorway. She shook her head, kneeling next to Willas’s body, shaking him and begging him not to leave her there alone. “Please don’t die, Willas. Don’t die. I’ll go with you,” she’d cried.

 

Sansa brought her hair over her shoulder to shield her face from Gendry’s eyes. She dried her eyes and breathed in slowly. Later Sandor would tell her that if he hadn’t come in when he had, Willas would have hit her. A man doesn’t yell like that without taking it out on someone, he’d said. She swallowed and lifted one foot out of the water.

 

“You can’t trust anyone, can you?” she asked in a quiet voice. He didn't answer until she turned her head to look at him.

 

His eyes bore into hers as he said emphatically, “You can trust me, Sansa. I’m on your side. Always.” She thought of him lying for her the day she'd sent Jon away. She gave him a small smile and rested her head against his shoulder.

 

“I suspect I can," she whispered.

 

“And Jon?”

 

She didn’t need to mull it over. A man doesn't yell like that without taking it out on someone... but Jon had. And even with Willas so upset, he hadn't risen a hand against her. Sandor was wrong.

 

"And Jon."

 

“So, as a friend you can trust,” Gendry began cautiously, “please tell me what’s going on with you and Sandor.” Sansa sighed and lifted her head to survey him. “I want to help you, Sansa.”

 

“I know you do… now but if you knew everything, you’d hate me as much as Sandor does, as much as Jon will,” she said her voice lowering sadly as she spoke Jon’s name. He was so gentle and kind and, somehow, he cared about her. He treated her with respect and admiration. He was starting to see past all of her defenses and still wanted to be with her. If he knew about these _punishments_ , as Sandor liked to call them, he would never look at her in the same way. He’d turn away from her, disgusted. And she couldn’t blame him. Who could love her after what she’d done?

 

Gendry nudged her with his shoulder. “You know, that’s bullshit, right?” She reeled back slightly, surprised. He scoffed. “Give us some credit, Sansa. It isn’t easy to get me to turn my back on a friend. From what I’ve seen of Jon, it’s not easy for him either.”

 

“But he –“

 

“A man who looks at you the way Jon looks at you doesn’t scare easy. Trust me.” She bit her lip considering this. She didn’t know when she started to care so much about what Jon thought of her but she did. She liked the way he took her opinion into consideration, the way his eyes lit up when she smiled at him. She didn’t want to risk losing that by telling him, but how much longer would he put up with being kept in the dark? Either way, she might lose him forever.

 

-🐺-

 

“And did you see her die?” Tyene asked. Myrcella shook her head licking her lips.

 

“I barely remember the ride to the hospital. I couldn’t say how long it was or how we got here. I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

 

“No, you did great. I’ve probably had you talking longer than Dr. Greyjoy would like, so here is my card,” she said handing it to her. “Give me a call if you remember something else or, yeah, you know...” She smiled sheepishly and walked briskly out of the room turning around at the door to glance quickly at Myrcella who was watching her with an unreadable expression. She rubbed her hand on her neck nervously, opened her mouth to speak, shook her head as she thought better of it and left.

 

Myrcella watched the door after she was gone. She wasn’t sure about it but she had a feeling that woman was hitting on her. Her face scrunched in confusion. _No, that’s impossible_ , she thought. _I look hideous._ She settled back in the bed pulling the covers up to her chest. Her lips were parted as she lifted the business card to stare at it.

 

-🐺-

 

“Hey, we came as soon as we could,” Tormund said raising his arms as Jon gave him a disgruntled look.

 

“What do you need?” Sam asked setting his laptop on the desk and opening it.

 

“I need you to tell me every person that came in and out of here yesterday.”

 

“Why? What’s up?” Tormund asked. Jon shook his head at his friend.

 

“I don’t know, but Sansa’s in trouble.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t know. She won’t talk about it,” he admitted.

 

Tormund pondered for a moment. “Maybe there’s a reason she hasn’t told you.”

 

“Yep, and I’m going to find out why.” He peered over Sam’s shoulders at the monitor. Sam was fast-forwarding through security camera footage of the past twenty-four hours, only stopping whenever he saw someone to write their names down.

 

-🐺-

 

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Sansa said to Gendry as the elevator rose. She caught her reflection on the glass wall and grimaced. Her face was a wreck from how hard she’d been crying. Somehow, at the docks, Gendry had convinced her that nothing could change the way either him or Jon felt about her and so she had told him. Every gory, shameful detail.

 

She’d tried to brush it off as a trial run but when she’d finished telling him everything and he’d simply hugged her, she realized how much his reaction mattered. If he had done what she’d expected, she couldn’t ever imagine putting herself through that with Jon. She would rather have disappeared, hidden away like a coward, letting Jon remember her as he saw her now.

 

Gendry gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

She nodded trying to swallow her fear. They reached the top floor, stepped off the elevator and walked to the door. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. The last time she’d been here she’d been sure that keeping what Sandor did a secret would protect Jon, and maybe it would. It was a valid concern considering how lethal Sandor was but she knew now that the reason behind her silence was so much more selfish. She’d spent most of her life terrified until she came here, until she met this man who didn’t care if she disagreed with him or “misbehaved.” She hadn’t wanted to risk losing the safe place she’d found with him.

 

She looked up at Gendry who nodded at her encouragingly. She took a deep breath and opened the door to see three heads turn to her. Tormund and Sam took in her state briefly but their eyes quickly turned to watch Jon.

 

He seemed transfixed as he walked toward her. He took in her puffy, bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks. Her eyelashes were matted together and she smiled at him shakily. He shook his head turning to glare at Gendry who took an automatic step back. But Jon was quicker. He had him pinned up against the wall, his fists clutching the guard’s shirt as he screamed, “WHAT THE FUCK did you do to my wife?” Sansa lunged forward, tugging on Jon’s hands but they only found something different to hold on to, Gendry’s neck.

 

“No, Jon, stop!” she yelled.

 

Tormund and Sam glanced at each other, knowing they’d need to call their cleaning crew soon. They’d spent over an hour searching through the security footage and it had shown that only one person had come here while Jon had been at the hospital. From the snarl on Jon’s face, that man wouldn’t survive the night.


	12. someone must get hurt

“You touched my wife?” Jon yelled pulling Gendry forward to slam him back against the wall. Gendry’s and Sansa’s hands tried futilely to release him from the Jon’s grip but it was like he couldn’t even feel them. Gendry tried to speak but could hardly manage a strained gurgle. Sansa looked to Sam and Tormund with pleading eyes as Gendry fought to stay conscious.

 

“Do something!” she screamed. They only watched on, their shoulders rising up in helpless shrugs. She grabbed Jon’s arm, putting all of her weight into the effort, but his strength outmatched her. Gendry would die for wanting to help her. She couldn’t look away. She watched the color draining from Gendry’s cheeks and knew it would be over soon. She bit her lip whimpering softly, and Jon felt his heart clench at the sound. His eyes shot to her as she brushed away a tear. Her hand covered her mouth stifling the sobs that followed.

 

As he watched her, his own eyes were threatening to fill with tears. He couldn’t stand to see her cry – not Sansa. He let Gendry go taking a step back but keeping the man in his sight. Gendry took long, raspy breaths, coughing violently. Sansa trembled with the force of her smothered sobs but she looked up at her husband gratefully.

 

He shook his head at her. “I’m not saying I won’t kill him, just not right now. Not in front of you.” She ran her hand over her face and knelt beside Gendry who had fallen to the ground as he tried desperately to catch his breath. She helped him into a sitting position and examined his neck.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Peachy,” he said hoarsely, “but I’m thinking you should have that talk with him without me.”

 

“No, you’re not going anywhere.”

 

“Yes, I think that’s best,” she said, ignoring Jon. She stood up helping Gendry to his feet; he stared at Jon warily as if at any moment, Jon would lunge forward and finish what he’d started. Sansa turned to Jon but spoke to the room, her hands resting on the small of her back. “I need a moment alone with my husband.”

 

“Jon?” Tormund asked.

 

“Yeah, you can go.”

 

Sam grabbed his laptop and Tormund followed him out the door. Gendry waited a moment and then requested in a quiet murmur, “Call me when you’re done here.” She nodded and pointed a finger at his neck.

 

“Get that checked out, okay?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Just –“

 

“Alright, I will.”

 

She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and watched him leave, closing the door soundlessly behind him. She took a deep breath turning to Jon. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. Gendry would never hurt me,” she said.

 

“Oh, really? Then, why did he?” She frowned, the mouth turning down. “We have security cameras, and he’s the only one who was here while I was gone last night. So, unless someone teleported in here,” he broke off, surprised to hear her chuckle darkly.

 

“I’m sorry. It’s just… of course,” she laughed.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella rolled over as she woke up. Her headphones were still in her ears as she’d fallen asleep listening to her iPod on shuffle. She sighed. She could never seem to sleep through the night like she used to. She pulled one of the buds out of her ear and was quickly aware of someone else’s steady breathing. She turned toward the sound her eyes narrowed. Tyene.

 

“What are you doing here?” She stood, smiling and coming to sit on the edge of Myrcella’s bed. “Did you find out something?”

 

She shook her head. “Before I do this, I just want you to know that I wish I didn’t have to. I think we could have been good together, you and me. Even if you don’t know it yet,” she said, her voice slightly amused with a hint of wistfulness while Myrcella looked at her with a brow arched and a confused expression. “I would have made you happy, but I don’t see you trusting me after this.” She plunged a needle into Myrcella’s arm; she hardly had the time to struggle before it was already emptied inside her system. Her eyes drifted closed as she lost consciousness.

 

-🐺-

 

She sat on the desk and took his hand in hers. She ran her fingertips across his calloused palm tracing each darker line in a featherlike touch. “My hand. Can you feel how soft it is?” He nodded, his eyes fixed on her downcast face. “I could win street fights. I know tae kwon do, martial arts, kung fu, capoeira, jiu jitsu… but my trainers always took special care not to damage my hands or leave any scars or bruises from sparring. He said they had to be soft. They had to be perfect for my husband.” Who? he wanted to ask when she paused and swallowed, closing her eyes briefly as if gathering her strength. “I had to be perfect for you.” He frowned. She was perfect to him in every way but he didn’t know if that’s what she wanted to hear. “Perfect wives don’t make mistakes. They don’t speak out of turn. They don’t disagree with their husbands. They always do what they’re told.” He squeezed her hand and stepped closer to her, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers.

 

“Then don’t ever be perfect for me, because I’d hate it if you thought you couldn’t be yourself with me.”

 

“Thank you.” She smiled leaning forward until her lips brushed against his. She moved back and lowered her eyes.

 

“I’m happy you’re telling me all this, believe me, but what does it have to do with who hurt you?”

 

“That’s how it all started,” she answered. “I had to learn to hold my tongue, to be subservient at all times. But I was rebellious. I had no friends to be isolated from, no one to call that taking away my phone would have an impact. I knew he couldn’t touch me because you can’t mark a prized mare. And he knew it so he found another way to hurt me.”

 

“What did he do?” He asked in a pained whisper.

 

Her eyes darted to his and just as quickly looked away. She held his hand tighter still deeply afraid that he would let go of hers after he knew. It was why Gendry had offered to be here. Maybe having him here, knowing that he didn’t blame her, would have made confessing this to Jon a little easier. Because right now, it seemed insurmountable. She opened her mouth but the words wouldn’t come. He watched her struggle for a minute and stroked her neck soothingly trying to calm her though his own pulse was rapid.

 

His mind was racing through every horrible possibility of what a man could do to a woman without leaving a scar, always coming back to the one he feared the most. He wouldn’t have thought she was sexually abused from how forward she was that first night, but what if she had been? What if she was taught that that’s how she needed to act in order to please her husband? The taste of bile filled his mouth at the thought. He couldn’t focus on his fears right now. He brought her hands to his lips. “Tell me what he did to you.” She shook her head.

 

“He didn’t do anything to me,” she said in a sad, disgusted tone. “Don’t you see? He couldn’t touch me. He never hit me. I couldn’t get married with the scars that would leave. Perfect wives have perfect skin. Perfect wives don’t flinch away from their husbands. No, instead, he found other girls, girls who didn’t have families, girls who wouldn’t be missed, and he did to them everything he couldn’t do to me. But me? I was always safe.” She pulled her hand from his to swipe at a furious tear.

 

Jon reeled back in shock. What kind of a sick, demented bastard would do that? “Who?”

 

“Sandor.”

 

“Okay, it’s going to be okay,” he reassured her. He lifted her into his arms and sat on the couch with her in his lap. His hand stroked her back soothingly as he murmured soft, encouraging words. She curled into him, her tears wetting his neck.

 

When she had quieted, she straightened to look at him.  Sansa’s face was splotchy. She was worn and sniffling. He’d heard his father say once that no one looked beautiful having a good cry. He was wrong.

 

He set her down gently on the couch. He stood up and went to the closet, pulling his gun from the locked box quickly and tucking it in his waistband. “Can you stay here for me, love?”

 

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice wet.

 

His fingers found his pockets. “I’m going to take care of this. He can’t get away with what he’s put you through, what he’s done. And he’s not going to stop unless we stop him.”

 

-🐺-

 

Gendry walked into his apartment, dropping his gun on the end table, not bothering to flick on the lights. He was worried that Sansa hadn’t called him yet. No one could blame her for what Sandor did. She was the victim here and he could kick himself for not seeing what was going on sooner. He hadn’t worked for them long, less than a year, but he had known something was wrong that day on the stairwell. The way Sandor had looked at her. It was his job to protect her, and he’d failed. The blame for anyone who’d been hurt while he’d been too blind to see the danger? That was right in front of him; that was on him.

 

He rubbed a hand on his neck. It still hurt, damn it, but it was good. Jon would protect her. He had an entire organization backing him up against one man. It should be easy, he thought, grabbing a beer from the fridge. The light illuminated his kitchen and his eyes fell on the shadow it made in the corner of his living room.

 

“Sandor.”

 

“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

 

“No, I don’t actually,” he said cursing himself silently for leaving his gun out of reach. His gaze turned to it momentarily.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sandor said with a chuckle. He pointed to Gendry’s chest; he looked down and saw the red dot hovering over his heart. “I suggest you come with me quietly. I wouldn’t want to have to pay a visit to your mother, would I? I’m sure you know what I can do when I’m angry.”

 

“Leave her out of this.” He looked again at his chest and knew that he had no escape route. “I’ll do what you want.”

 

-🐺-

 

A blinding light flicked on, piercing through Myrcella’s eyelids. She slung her arm over her face and groaned. The nurses usually were more subtle with the wake-up calls, she thought. She rolled over in bed. As her brain woke up, memories of last night came rushing back to her. Tyene. Her body shot upright in the bed, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her, and her eyes immediately met hers.

 

“Does your head hurt?” she asked in a concerned tone leaning forward on the desk.

 

Myrcella’s eyes flicked around the room. It looked like any bedroom though it was a bit eccentrically decorated with dream catchers hanging from the ceiling over the bed and paintings that covered every space on the walls. None of them were in the same style. The only pieces of furniture were the bed and a desk which was littered with knick knacks that were clearly pushed aside to make room for Tyene to sit down. There was a large window facing the side of a building – obviously too high to jump from – and a door next to the desk. “It locks from the outside,” Tyene said. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Yes. First, I want to know why you brought me here and where here is. I get that you’re all mystery, danger girl. Whatever, but you need to understand that I was in a coma for, like, two weeks. I had the crap beaten out of me, and only copious amounts of pain medication allow me to be able to move without wanting to cry, and now,” she said a note of hysteria entering her voice, “now, I’ve just been kidnapped again and taken to God knows where, so if you’re planning on hurting me or killing me or whatever… Just go for the latter and do it quickly please because I can’t take anymore, okay?”

 

Tyene hopped down and strode over to the bed. She plopped down next to Myrcella and lifted her chin gently with a finger until Myrcella opened her clenched eyes and looked at her. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m actually trying to save your life so don’t mess up all my hard work by starving to death. I’ve got bacon, eggs, pancakes and cold pizza,” she finished with a grin. She stood and tugged on her hand. “Come on then. I’ll explain everything once you’re fed… and showered.”

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa stood in front of the door meeting Jon’s frustrated glare. “He dies tonight,” he announced. She scoffed and pressed her back harder against the door as Jon tried to nudge her aside. He held back a sigh but his gaze turned accusing. “Why are you protecting him?”

 

“I’m protecting you,” she said, “and… and me.”

 

“The only way to protect you is to make sure that he can never hurt you again.” He stepped forward and cupped her face, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “There’s no way he’ll ever get close enough to touch you again,” he reassured her, “but I don’t want you to ever have to worry about what he’s doing to someone else because he can’t get to you. I know what guilt and shame are like, Sansa. I know that no matter what I say a part of you will always blame yourself for what he’s done and I hate that he’s done that to you. I hate that you have to carry that with you.” Her eyes filled with tears she tried to blink away quickly. He kissed her forehead then rested his own against hers. He breathed in deeply trying to calm down so that he could take care of her before he left to kill Sandor. “I can make sure he doesn’t put anything else on your conscience, Sansa.”

 

She shook her head pushing him back so he would look at her. “You don’t understand, Jon. Will you sit down and let me explain?” His jaw twitched. “Please.” He sighed and nodded. They walked over to the couch, and Jon took her hand in his knowing that she needed this connection just as much as he did. “After my mother died, my father could barely look at me. I look just like her, so it was up to Sandor to teach me how to be a proper woman, a proper wife. I focused on my education, on learning how to balance the books and solve until I turned eighteen. I didn’t know how to defend myself then,” she said pleadingly. He squeezed her hand. “I was stupid to think we wouldn’t get caught but I was in love and we were careful… right up until we argued about running away together. Sandor came in and shot Willas.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said thinking back to when she’d first mentioned this relationship in the car. It felt like ages ago now. She’d said she should have let him go, how she knew that it wouldn’t last. He felt a wave of empathy for her and a fresh surge of rage toward Sandor. He wanted the man dead for putting her through so much.

 

“After,” she inhaled slowly, “I was examined to make sure everything was, you know, intact.” His looked at her in confusion. “I wasn’t a virgin anymore,” she said blushing.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes.” The nervous energy faded away and she was left with a leaden taste in her mouth. “Sandor was furious, so he brought a girl to the house that night. He told me from the start that she was going to die but he took his time.” She shook her head horrified at the memory playing in her mind. “And when she couldn’t take anymore, when she was going to go… he made me do it.” His body trembled with shock. “There are four girls that have died because of me. He killed the first when I tried to tell my father what was happening and the second and third when I refused to kill this girl.” She stifled a sob with the back of her hand and turned away from him. He scooted closer on the couch and enveloped her in his arms. “He said he’d kill another one every night she lived, and I knew she was going to die anyway so… I, I, I did it,” she cried. “But I don’t care if I go to prison. I deserve it.”

 

“Shh, that’s not going to happen. None of this is your fault.”

 

“It’s not about me, Jon.” She turned her face into his chest. “I could kill him just as easily as you could but, if he dies, more will die. He has a partner. For every day I live after him, someone else will die. And if I kill myself to save them, three die every night.” Her face streaming with tears, she pulled back and looked up at him, her fingers digging into his back. “So, how, Jon? How can I let him die knowing that?” 

 

Jon held Sansa in his arms until the sobbing had waned and, exhausted, she fell asleep, face turned into his chest. He swiped a hand across his face to get rid of his own tears. He didn’t want to let her see him cry. It would only make her feel worse. He lifted her gently being careful not to jostle her too much and wake her. In her sleep, she reached across her stomach and gripped his t-shirt in her fingers. He looked down at her as he made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. She was devastated and, for the first time since he’d seen her picture and knew in his gut they were meant to be together, he felt lost.

 

How could he ever make this better for her? She would blame herself for the rest of her life for what had already been done in her name; he didn’t think she’d be able to survive if anyone else were hurt. And he couldn’t survive without her, not after knowing what it was like to be with her.

 

He loved the way she rambled when she was upset, how vulnerable and strong she was and that, finally, she had trusted him enough to open up to him. He couldn’t fail her. His jaw set. He wouldn’t. He refused to let Sandor steal the way her eyes danced when she laughed or how firmly she squeezed his hand when he did something she appreciated. It could be as simple as listening to her or taking her advice but he saw how much it meant to her. He set her down in the bed, her hand still wound in his shirt, and brushed her hair back from her face. He loved her soft, raspy voice, the sound of his name on her lips when she came… He looked down at his wife, this woman who had somehow come to mean everything to him, and realized that it wasn’t just the little things she did. It was her. He loved her.

 

-🐺-

 

Myrcella chewed on a bit of bacon and looked around the room. It was a spacious single bedroom apartment with a living room, dining room and kitchen. They were visible from the kitchen as was the door to the bedroom. There were blankets on the couch from where Tyene must have slept the night before. There was only one other door, though. She glanced at it and back to Tyene who set a cup of orange juice on the table in front of her. She sat down and Myrcella asked, “You’re not going to eat?”

 

She shook her head, her eyes searching Myrcella’s face. Some of the color returned to her cheeks as she swallowed. Tyene wondered disgruntledly for a moment what the hell that hospital had been feeding her. She looked ravenous but she ate slowly, self-conscious.

 

“So, where do I start? My name – I was born Tyene Martell. When I was eleven, my parents and my sisters died in a car accident.”

 

Myrcella’s wary eyes softened as she listened. She knew what it was like to lose siblings. She shook her head, hardening herself against the surge of empathy. “You said you brought me here for my protection. I had a guard. I was in the hospital. I’m still healing.”

 

“If your guard was any use, you wouldn’t be here. There are other girls like you. You weren’t safe.”

 

“Oh. You could’ve given me police protection, though, put me in witness protection or something.”

 

“Whoever this is, he’s got guys on the force. The other women, most of them live. They don’t talk, and they go on with the rest of their lives. The ones who want justice have  _ accidents _ . 

 

“Listen, for a long time, I didn’t have a purpose and I didn’t care if I hurt anyone around me because it could never compare to how I was suffering. My whole family, gone. In an instant.” Myrcella couldn’t stop herself from reaching across the table with an upturned palm. Tyene hesitated then place her hand in hers. She wanted to express her condolences but knew they were meaningless. It was how she’d felt when Tommen had died and she had still had Robert and Shireen. She couldn’t imagine losing all of them at the same time. 

 

“Ahem, well –“

 

“No, you don’t have to tell me anymore right now,” Myrcella interrupted.

 

“I want you to know me,” she said, squeezing her hand. She cleared her throat and said in a quiet voice, “About two and a … half years ago, I woke up in a hospital just like you. Our stories are so similar, it’s eerie… and it can’t just be a coincidence.” Her voice took on a determined edge. “I woke up in a cage and I knew every kick, every punch wasn’t meant for me but the other woman there. I wasn’t beaten as badly as you were but she begged and pleaded with him to let me go. Finally, he did. He warned me that if I told anyone about this, he would kill me, but it didn’t matter. When I woke up, I had a reason to live again.” Her steely eyes met Myrcella’s. “I’m going to save her,” she said fiercely.

 

-🐺-

 

Jon stood up to undress but sensing him moving away, Sansa’s eyes flew open. “No,” she cried. “Please don’t leave me.” Tears rushed to her eyes again and he hurried to get into bed with her. He crushed her to his chest and her hand clutched his shirt as if by sheer force of will, she could keep him with her. “Don’t go. I need you.”

 

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” He rubbed her back and nestled his head into her shoulder. “I will never leave you,” he vowed. “I love you, Sansa.” She sniffled but her body relaxed against his at his words and soon, she was fast asleep again.

 

-🐺-

 

Gendry struggled against the ropes tying him to the chair. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it!” He screamed into the dark room. He was under a spotlight and everything else was pitch black. Sandor stepped forward into the light holding a video camera.

 

“Relax, Gendry. I won’t hurt you yet. I just want you to make a little video for me.” He smiled devilishly and hit the record button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of you guessed it! :)


	13. half light

Tyene fell silent and Myrcella continued to eat. A little while later, Myrcella seemed to realize they were still holding hands across the table. She blushed and pulled her hand back eyeing Tyene nervously.

 

Tyene looked away and brought her hands to her lap. For a moment, it had felt like she finally wasn’t alone with all of this but she knew better than to lie to herself. She’d done her homework and found out about Myrcella’s boyfriend. She was surprised he hadn’t been there the day she questioned her at the hospital. If her girlfriend had been attacked, she would never have trusted her safety to anyone else. It was actually pathetic how easy it was for Tyene to sneak Myrcella out. Maybe it was because she had a badge but the way this man had operated as if no one could touch him made it obvious he had the local cops on the payroll.

 

“So, why did you change your name?” Myrcella asked to fill the silence. She hated the quiet. It was why she always had music playing or was around people.

 

She shrugged and stood to lean her back against the wall. “I wanted it to be harder for people on the force to think they already knew my story. The victim searching for justice, that’s not who I am. After my family died, no one ever did anything for me for me. They all wanted to make themselves feel better through saving me but this woman was different. The way she asked him to let me go… she wasn’t like the others.”

 

Myrcella nodded. “But there’s no proof that this is the same woman who saved me.”

 

“How many people in one town do you really think have to watch other women get abused like that? It has to be the same girl, and I don’t think he would kill her. There was something about the way he spoke to her. It was like, like he owned her, like he hated her, but there was something beneath it,” she said, shaking her head. “He loves her.”

 

“You don’t do that to someone you love,” Myrcella balked.

 

“Not everyone knows how to love someone the right way.”

 

-🐺-

 

“I’m not saying it,” Gendry said his mouth becoming a thin line. Sandor sighed dramatically, turning off the camera and letting it hang at his side.

 

“I’m being reasonable here. I could make your mother say it with a knife in her gut, or you could.” He looked at the pictures of his mother on the floor. They were obviously taken from a distance but it didn’t matter. Sandor had shots of her bringing groceries to her car, at the school where she worked, in her bed. He pushed back the terror that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t want to think about what Sandor could have done to his mother if he didn’t cooperate but he knew that making this tape would hurt Sansa. Sandor saw him deliberating and lost his temper. He was the one in control. “Better yet, if you don’t say what I told you to in the next sixty seconds, this tape will be of me driving a knife into your heart,” he said tersely.

 

“Then kill me.”

 

Sandor glared at him for a few moments then threw his head back in a laugh. “And who will protect her when you’re dead? Your brother’s a schmuck. Your sister’s a recluse,” he said quickly then abruptly stopped as a new plan formed in his mind. Gendry’s eyes widened.

 

“If you so much as lay a finger on anyone in my family, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

 

“Stupid. A gun’s quicker.” He pulled the gun from his waistband and shot Gendry inches beside his heart. Sandor lifted the camera, making sure to capture the pooling blood on the floor and Gendry’s paling face. When he’d finished, he stormed out of the room and past the guards waiting there. He turned back and yelled, “I want him alive when I get back!”

 

-🐺-

 

Shae tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator rose. It’d been weeks, and she still hadn’t heard from Jon. She had tried to be understanding about this. He was just married. He needed a honeymoon period but that was over the minute she got this picture in the mail. Of course, he would use his marriage as an excuse for not being around so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye and continue lying to her, she scoffed. Well, she wouldn’t let this happen to her, not again.

 

She reached the top floor and banged on Jon’s door. He couldn’t be asleep. It was the middle of the day and he hadn’t been at the warehouse when she’d asked Tormund if he was there. Shae kicked the door and hit her fist against it again, calling, “Jon, this is really important!” 

 

The door swung open and Jon already had a finger to his mouth urging her to keep it down. “Sansa’s asleep so just shh, please, Shae. Not today.”

 

She cocked her head at him. Jon, her best friend, who couldn’t be bothered to return her million phone calls, was telling her to keep it down because some woman he’s known less than a month was sleeping. Is he fucking kidding me, she thought, before she rushed to him and backhanded him as hard as she could.

 

He staggered back and looked down at her astounded. “Shae, what the hell?”

 

“Yeah, that is what I asked” she said furiously opening the envelope and slapping the picture down on the desk. She jabbed a finger at it. “Tell me you didn’t know about this. Tell me that this is not why you’ve been avoiding me.”

 

Jon bit his lip and looked down at the picture of Tormund and Brienne kissing outside a restaurant. He had watched them grow closer over the last few months and he’d warned Tormund that if he cheated on her, he could end up losing Shae for good. In the end, Tormund made his own choices. He was a grown man, and as much as Jon loved Shae, he hadn’t told her. Staying silent or telling the truth meant betraying one of his closest friends. He had let the business decide for him. There were other things going on, other threats, and it was simply a bad time to lose his right hand man. But looking at Shae’s disbelieving, accusatory gaze now, he knew he should have tried harder to talk Tormund out of being with Brienne.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said taking a step toward her. 

 

She took an immediate step back, her body doubling over slightly as if she’d been physically hit. Tears sprang to her eyes but she blinked them away shaking her head.

 

“No, you’re saying sorry because it happened, right?” she asked desperately wanting to believe that Tormund’s infidelity wouldn’t make her lose him and the only other person she thought she could count on. Her voice shook as she asked, “Because you didn’t know, right? He kept it a secret from you because he knew that if you knew something like this, something that would hurt me this much, you would tell me?” He opened his mouth to speak but then shut it. Shae stared at him as if finally seeing him clearly for the first time. “And you call me a liar.” Jon felt a pang in his chest at her hard tone. He’d always been amused when he’d heard her use it on their mutual enemies but now that it was directed at him he found it hard to keep his cool.

 

“Shae…”

 

“Stop,” she commanded holding up a hand. “This is over. We are not friends anymore.”

 

Sansa rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty. She jolted upright searching the room for Jon. He wouldn’t have gone after Sandor on his own, not after knowing what it would mean for her, she thought, but had he gone to work? She listened for him downstairs and heard a woman scream, “Don’t touch me!” Her brows furrowed and she hurried to the top of the stairwell just in time to see Shae burst into tears. Jon tried to pull her into a hug but Shae shoved him away. Sansa gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as she watched Shae landed a right hook on Jon’s chin.

 

“Hey!” Sansa called, rushing down the stairs and dragging Shae who glared at Jon by the arm until she stood in front of her.

 

“Sansa, don’t,” Jon said trying to step between them.

 

“No, you don’t,” she said closing the distance between her and Shae and nudging Jon with her shoulder to block him out. “I can understand that whatever, “ she said, waving a hand over Shae’s tear ridden face, “is going on is tough on you and I don’t know the details or what Jon’s part in it is. But you’re going to need to use your words. Because, believe me, if you touch my husband again, I will hit you so hard you see God.” Her tone was lethal and Shae’s eyes darted from Jon back to her.

 

Shae barked out a harsh laugh. She looked up to the ceiling, smiling darkly and blinked back the fresh tears. “You’re just going to stand there and let her threaten me after what you did, Jon?” Wiping a hand across her cheek, she scoffed and stalked past him to the desk, snatching the photo and shoving it back in the envelope with jerky movements. 

 

Sansa’s narrowed eyes followed her readying herself to attack her. Swinging the door open, Shae turned back to Jon, her shoulders slightly slumped and her eyes defeated. Her mouth parted to speak but she closed it pressing her lips together in a grim smile. She turned away the door swinging shut behind her.

 

“Please wait,” he said rushing forward as the door slammed closed. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath, and stepped out into the hallway. Sansa followed him her arms crossed and her back straight but kept her distance standing by the door. She knew they were close and that this was between the two of them but seeing Shae hit Jon had made Sansa see red. She wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt him no matter what the reason. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. If I told you, Tormund would hate me and if I didn’t, you’d hate me.”

 

“So you chose Tormund,” she said staring straight at the elevator doors.

 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that,” he said in a soft painful voice. “We’ve been friends for years, Shae. At least come inside and we’ll talk about it.” The doors opened and Shae stepped on.

 

“I don’t have anything left to say to you, and I don’t want to hear another word come out of your lying mouth.” She pressed the ground floor button quickly and looked away from Jon who felt the urge to follow her downstairs and force her to listen to his side of things.

 

But what could he say? He’d hurt her probably more than Tormund cheating had and he knew Shae well enough to know that she needed space to cool off before she could even consider forgiving him. The doors shut and he turned to Sansa who still stood with her arms crossed and her back against the wall. He looked away from her ashamed and went to go back inside. He wondered what she could think of him now. She had been hurt and ignored by the people she was supposed to be able to trust and here he was another man to betray someone who’d put their confidence in him. He moved to turn the doorknob but her light touch on his arm stopped him.

 

“Are you okay?” His eyes met hers. Without waiting for an answer, Sansa pulled him into a hug.

 

-🐺-

 

“Ahhh!” Gendry grunted as the doctor stitched him up without any local anesthetic. He bit down on his lip and after a moment, his mouth was filled with the sweet coppery taste of his blood. The doctor paused and Gendry shook his head quickly. “Just get it over with.” The needle tore through his skin again and he panted through it, trying to muffle the groan of pain, a sheen of sweat covering his body. 

 

-🐺-

 

“I know that wasn’t easy for you,” she murmured, her mouth by his ear. He shrugged against her and pulled back taking her arms from around his neck and walking past her into the penthouse. She followed him in and closed the door quietly behind her. He went into the kitchen and she hovered near the desk wondering if he wanted to be alone. Maybe he was angry with her for how she’d spoken to Shae. She hadn’t meant to interfere; the threat had escaped her lips before she thought about how Jon would feel about it. He walked back in taking a swig of beer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –“

 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to apologize.” He sighed and sat down on the couch leaning against the armrest and rubbing his neck. “What Sandor did you to…” She came to sit beside him but kept her eyes averted. “Of course, it has an effect on you. Years of watching people get hurt without being able to do anything to stop it but now you could. Besides, you didn’t hurt Shae. I did.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“She trusted me and I let her down.” He shrugged and slumped into the couch. The whole situation seemed to have sapped away all his energy and strength. He covered his eyes with his hand and she tugged it down gently squeezing it with one of her hands and running a hand along his forearm.

 

“I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

“Yeah, I didn’t set out wanting to hurt her but I knew that all of this would. I know her.  _ I know her _ . I know that she’d risk her life to protect me, kill anyone who was trying to hurt me and I couldn’t even be honest with her,” he said, shaking his head disgustedly. “I was just kidding myself, thinking that she’d be hurt but it wouldn’t be that bad, that I wouldn’t lose one of my best friends.” She was silent for a moment processing what he’d said with a frown. He seemed to blame himself as much as Shae did.

 

“Jon, exactly what happened?”

 

-🐺-

  
  


Sandor smiled to himself walking forward to the guard at his desk. He dropped down the envelope containing the tape of him shooting Gendry. “Make sure Mrs. Snow receives this.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

-🐺-

 

Tyene took Myrcella’s plate brushing the remains into the trash can and placing it in the sink. She opened the faucet and let the water run over it before she put it in the dishwasher. “This is the part you aren’t going to like,” she said turning back to Myrcella. Myrcella lifted an eyebrow. What could she have to complain about now? It was obvious from how Tyene had taken her here that she was a prisoner. It might be for her own good but all the same, she wouldn’t be able to leave or call anyone in case whoever had attacked her came looking for her. “You can’t lea–“

 

“I have to stay here. I know,” she said in a monotone. “I can’t call anyone including my dad and Shireen to let them know I’m safe.” She gave her a lopsided grin. “Everyone in Wintertown has been kidnapped at one time or another. I know the drill.” Tyene didn’t know what to make of that. She hadn’t really thought of herself as a kidnapper, more of a protector. Was that how Myrcella saw it? She asked herself. “So, you have to go to work?”

 

“Yes, I want to see if they’ve found out anything new.”

 

“You should talk to Jon Snow,” Myrcella said pointing a finger at her.

 

“The hitman? What does he have to do with this?”

 

“Oh, he and Shireen used to date a while back. When she found me, she called him to help find out who did it. No offense, but he’s usually better at solving crimes than the cops so if anyone knows anything, it’ll be him.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Tyene laughed. “I’ll talk to him. Will you be okay?” Myrcella nodded. “There’s a gun in this drawer,” she said tapping the drawer under the sink. “No one should be looking for you here, but if you need it, it’s there.” She walked to the door and slipped into her jacket.

 

“Tyene.” She turned her head to her lifting her dark hair out of her collar. “I really appreciate you trying to protect me. I just feel,” she paused looking Tyene in the eye. Tyene’s eyes were slightly narrowed as if she couldn’t figure Myrcella out, and she couldn’t. She had a boyfriend yet she looked at her like she wanted to explore the same things she did. “I feel safe with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i've said, this is already completed but some of your ideas make me want to adjust some things... hmm...


	14. let down

Jon began to tell Sansa his side of the story and waited for a reaction. He felt like a jerk and now he was worried that Sansa would think he was one, too. “So, I didn’t do anything. I kept his secret. Somehow, Shae found out. Maybe she was suspicious or something and hired someone to follow him, because she came here with the proof, a picture.” He cleared his throat and continued to watch her apprehensively.

 

It almost made her laugh, how scared he was. It made him seem downright adorable like a child who’d been caught eating dessert before dinner. His sins were nothing compared to hers. She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his lips. When she felt him relax, she pulled back and held his face in her hand, stroking his cheek gently.

 

“You made a mistake, Jon,” she said, nodding. “And yeah, it was a pretty big one but instead of wasting energy beating yourself up about it, figure out how to make it right with her.” 

 

He put his hand over hers on his face, squeezing it and leaning into it.

 

If he was honest, he was scared. Shae was always there for him. She was one of the only people to look past what he did. It was why he felt so awful but he nodded knowing that Sansa was right. There was no use wallowing in his guilt when Shae was out there, feeling betrayed and hurt.

 

He pulled her hand down, keeping his eyes on them as he entwined their fingers together. “Thank you.”

 

-🐺-

 

Gendry took a ragged breath and sat up slowly, his hand resting over his wound on his chest. “So, what? I’ll live?” He was trying to sound sardonic and uncaring, but his voice was laced in pain and he couldn’t stop a groan from escaping. The doctor looked at him sympathetically lifting up one shoulder noncommittally.

 

“I can’t say,” she said anxiously. “I haven’t worked in the ER since I did my residency.” She shook her head throwing a nervous glance at the guard by the door. She bit her lower lip and leaned in until her mouth was a hair’s breadth from his ear. “I was taken outside of the hospital. Do you know where we are?” she asked.

 

“Hey,” the guard called angrily causing her to jump away from Gendry. He stalked over to her and grabbed her arm roughly dragging her toward the door. Her eyes locked with Gendry’s, fear emanating from them.

 

“She’s just giving me the instructions,” Gendry said shaking the bottle of antibiotics in the air. The guard paused and looked down at her. Gendry raised an eyebrow at her and his eyes widened as she just stared at him.

 

“Is that true?” the guard barked. She glanced quickly at him and back at Gendry and nodded rapidly.

 

“Y-y-yes,” she said in a shaky voice. “Once a day with food.” The guard looked between them and then continued to take her away. She kept staring back at him as she was led out of the room. It’s going to be okay, he mouthed. She nodded and tried to make herself believe him. 

 

-🐺-

 

A knock sounded at the door causing them both to turn their heads toward it. Sansa moved to get up but he shook his head and walked to the door. He opened it to find Edd holding a small Manila envelope.

 

“Hey, boss,” he said. He peeked around him to wave at Sansa, smiling widely. “Hey, Sansa.” She smiled back and waved. Jon rolled his eyes. Edd’s crush on Sansa was so obvious it was irritating. He cleared his throat and fixed him with a look. Edd looked away and stuttered, “One of Stark’s men came by and left this for Sansa.” Jon shot her a glance over his shoulder.

 

“Thanks, Edd.” He nodded and turned away. He closed the door and Sansa stood up with her hand out.

 

“Let me see.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said holding it back towards his body. He just had a bad feeling about this. Her eyes narrowed and her heart beat faster with anger. Still, he pressed on shaking his head. “I think I should watch it alone. I don’t want him to have a chance to hurt you again.” She put her hands on her hips and scoffed. “I’m trying to protect you!”

 

“Give it to me,” she said sharply. “We’re in this together or not at all.” She didn’t want to do it on her own but she would if she had to. With everything Sandor had put her through, everything he’d done to keep her under his thumb, she simply wouldn’t stand to kept in the dark about anything concerning him, especially not if it would help them find a way to finally stop him.

 

He sighed and nodded. She walked to his side as he opened the envelope. A letter and a disk fell into his hand. He handed her the letter and inserted the disk into the DVD player.

 

“You’re misbehaving,” she read aloud. “It was supposed to be our little secret but you had to tell him an–” She broke off. She gasped, and her eyes flew to the television as a gunshot rang out. She saw Gendry slump and continued, fighting to keep her voice steady, “And now you’ve disappointed me.”

 

" _ How many people have to die before you learn to obey me _ ?" Sandor's voice said through the television speakers. She whimpered and sank onto the couch, the letter slipping from her hand.

 

"Bastard!" Jon screamed picking up the TV and throwing it onto the floor where it smashed.

 

"Jon, please," she said, her voice trembling. He kicked at it cursing continuously, not even hearing Sansa give a startled gasp and ask him to stop. "Jon!"

 

He stopped and looked at her, saw how terrified she was. Her entire body was shaking. Her breath was coming in short pants now. She reached out a hand to him, and he went to her side, grateful that his outburst hadn’t made her scared of him. He didn’t think he could bear to have Sansa cringe away from him again.

 

"We’re going to get through this, Sansa.”

 

She nodded. She knew that. She wasn’t alone in this anymore, but Gendry was shot. Sandor could take Jon from her as easily as he’d taken Willas. Her heart quickened its pace. Her breath only came in shorter pants, and a sob escaped. "I can't breathe!" She cried clutching her chest. He cradled her in his arms but she felt like she was suffocating. Her hands gripped him while she struggled for air and then went still. They fell away, and her eyes closed, her body going limp.

 

"Sansa, Sansa!" He pressed fingers to her wrist. Her pulse was faint. He lifted her up and her neck tilted back. One arm fell out of her lap to hang at their side. He gazed at her, worry evident on his face, and rushed out the door to the elevator.

 

-🐺-

 

_ It wasn’t that she was surprised, no. Of course not. She’d expected it would end here from the start. She let herself give a fleeting glance to her father’s dead body lying in a pool of blood on his bed. He still slept on the right side, the closest to the door, though her mother had been gone for years. She couldn’t look at him long, though. She wouldn’t give the grief a chance to overwhelm her and make her lose control in front of Sandor. He stood looking down at her as she sat on the floor at his feet where her mother had been once. It was where Sansa had always been really. Her eyes made the ascent to his slowly, reluctantly. She expected him to be angry but instead she only saw the stark sting of disappointment and regret. _

 

_ “I wanted you to be different,” he said sadly. Sansa smiled knowingly but not smugly. Even she couldn’t taunt him when death was so close. She gripped Jon’s lifeless hand and closed her eyes as he raised the knife. _

 

Her eyes shot open, her body shaking, and her breath quick as she tried to figure out why Jon was carrying her, jostling her, as he ran. She started to ask but promptly threw up on herself, the vomit falling on her chest. Even as he looked down at her in a panic, he murmured, “It’s going to be okay.” He leaned her closer to his body and opened the backseat. He laid her down as gently and as fast as he could. “It’s going to be okay,” he said again.

 

She nodded, not believing him but wanting to reassure him. He closed her door quickly, getting into the front seat and peeling out of the parking spot in a matter of seconds. She pursed her lips to stop herself from throwing up again. She brought a hand to her mouth. Her skin felt cold and clammy even to herself. The ceiling of the car tilted. They were driving too fast. She looked at Jon who gripped the steering wheel tightly as he sped through the streets.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” he kept saying like a mantra, like if he said it enough it would be true. His image was trembling, coming in and out of focus. She closed her eyes to stop the dizziness.

 

“Stop,” she breathed.  _ He twisted the knife slicing into her skin. “I can’t stop. I’ll never stop until I have you.” _

 

“We’re almost there.” She shook her head and scoffed. She regretted it almost instantly as the pain shot through her body.

 

“You’ll never have me,” she said to Sandor. Jon braved a quick look at her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was set firmly. Her lips and her fingertips on her chest were taking on a bluish tint. He faced the road and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator.

 

_ “Yes, Catelyn, I will!” He screamed furiously. “You belong TO ME!” _

 

“I belong… to… no one,” she groaned, her weak voice stubborn. She felt the dark stealing her consciousness but fought against it.

 

Her eyes peeled open to see the bright lights of Emergency Room sign coming into view. The car screeched to a stop and Jon jumped out of the car already yelling for help, pulling her from the car and running into the hospital. She felt the cool, dryness of the hospital stretcher, and she was too tired to fight the darkness anymore.

 

“Let the doctors work,” a woman said behind him rushing to stand in his way when he tried to follow Sansa through the swinging doors. He looked longingly at the doors. He needed to know what was going on, but she was right. Everyone needed to be concentrating on Sansa, not on making sure he wasn’t interfering. He nodded and walked over to a seat sinking down into it. His shirt was covered in vomit but he barely noticed. She couldn’t breathe. She was throwing up violently, and she could… she could die. He choked back a sob and looked around the room, anywhere but at the woman who sat down beside him silently, reached over and squeezed his hand.

 

He waited until he was sure he wouldn’t open his mouth and start bawling then shot her a cursory glance. She wasn’t in a uniform. She didn’t look like she even worked here. “What are you doing here?” he asked thinking she might have someone on the other side of those doors too.

 

“I’m pretty sure you broke eighteen different traffic laws but I kept up.”

 

He stared at her now, his eyes narrowed. “You followed me?”

 

She nodded and gave his hand another squeeze. She smiled in a way designed to put him at ease but her eyes were tense. “Did he do something to her tonight?” She frowned. “I didn’t think he ever touched her.” Jon balked when he realized what she meant, what she knew.

 

“Who are you?” he asked.

 

“Tyene. My name is Tyene, and I’m on your side.” Her eyes drifted up for a moment and she amended, “Her side.”


	15. bound

“Push 60 of Epi. She doesn’t have any physical scarring or bruising, so let’s just get her stable while we wait for the tests,” Shireen said.

 

This definitely wasn’t how she expected to meet Jon’s wife. Her skin was clammy, and her breathing labored, but soon, the medicine would do its job, raising her heart rate and staving off whatever other symptoms she might have in order to treat the real problem when the results came back. She stood by her head and brushed the hair away from Sansa’s face. She stared down at this woman who Jon loved so fiercely; she had never seen him as distraught as he was when he carried Sansa into the hospital, not even when it had been Tormund at death’s door or Shae. “Don’t you even think about dying.”

 

-🐺-

 

“But who are you to her then?” Jon asked. “I, I didn’t think she had… has any family besides her father.” He watched Tyene shrug as if he was watching her through a dirty window. He was going through the motions, asking for information he knows he’d care about once he finds out Sansa is okay. At the moment, none of it mattered. How could it? He blinked back a fresh wave of tears and before she could speak, he said hoarsely, “I have to call Ned.” He swallowed, trying to force the lump in his throat down. “She’d want him to be here.”

 

Tyene smiled. “You really love her, don’t you?” He said nothing but she knew the answer. It was impossible to be unharmed and feel this much pain without being in love. Her gaze found the doors the woman who’d saved her was behind. The last time they met, Tyene’s life had hung in the balance. Now, hers did. She didn’t believe in coincidences. It was no accident that Myrcella trusted her enough to tell her about Jon Snow or that she would choose to see him at the precise moment he was carrying that woman to his car. No, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Tyene had been brought to her when she needed her the most. She, her… “What’s her name?”

 

His brows knit together. “Sansa.”

 

“Sansa,” she whispered. After all this time, she’d found her.

 

“How can you be on her side if you don’t even know her name?” he asked suspiciously, drawing back.

 

Her eyes met his and she looked into his searching pupils. Does he know what that man did to her, she wondered. She dropped her hands into her lap. “I don’t know her.”

 

“Then wh—“

 

“But she saved my life once.”

 

-🐺-

 

So many rooms and hallways but this mansion was as empty as the wine glass in his hand. Ned set it down on the table and walked around the desk to sit in his chair. He lifted the key from around his neck and opened the bottom drawer. He ran his fingers over the cover, not sure if he wanted to miss them both tonight.

 

He had had a life once with a booming business, his territory expanding, his enemies cowering in fear and the family he’d always wanted. He had no brothers or sisters; his parents were long dead, and they had been only children, but he had a beautiful wife and daughter. He had a family that smiled so brightly when he walked into the room that he had hated when he had to leave home. And as heartlessly as she could speak to him, as cruelly as she had treated him during her mood swings, Catelyn had loved him. And he her. He had found peace in even her most mundane habits.

 

He set the photo album open on the desk and flipped to his favorite picture. He had gone through this so many times, he had it all memorized. Catelyn was laughing, carrying Sansa on her hip and nuzzling her neck with her nose. Sansa was just a year old and giggling, squirming happily in her arms. He swiped at a tear roughly. He had stood behind the camera and took the shot before coming over to kiss his wife deeply.

 

Then, he had thought that nothing could separate them. Now, someone had taken Catelyn from him and he could barely bear to be around Sansa. She was so much like her mother, in looks and spirit. There was a time when her tantrums and laughter could be heard from each end of the house, but her mother’s death had broken her, stolen her passion. She was as quiet as the snow now yet he hoped that her marriage had somehow revived her, he thought, pouring himself more wine.

 

-🐺-

 

He hadn’t expected any of the women Sandor had tortured to be able to identify Sansa let alone find her one day in order to keep her safe. Because that was why she was here, he knew. His instincts were telling him to trust her and he hoped that if the three of them worked together, they would be able to find a way to stop Sandor without anyone else dying, without Sansa’s conscience being further burdened. He gave her a nod, accepting her role in this but not yet able to be glad to have her there.

 

No one had come out and told him what was going on. They weren’t leaving him with a choice. He had to know what was happening and though she wasn’t ready for him to give her everything, he knew she needed to know that he was there. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone in this anymore and she never had to be again.

 

He stood and walked toward those doors, knowing Tyene was close behind him. She reached out a hand to stop him that he easily shook off. Alone, the word felt like it was a knife against his nerves, cutting each one until he had nothing left to keep him in this room. He couldn’t let her wake up alone and terrified in a hospital room. He’d done that himself too many times, and no matter how many times he’d been shot or stabbed, he never got used to it. He went through the doors, hearing a nurse calling him back but he was so focused it sounded soft and distant.

 

He found her room easily enough following Shireen’s voice. Push 60 of Epi. He brushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room silently, his eyes fixed on Sansa. She was still pale and sweaty. His gaze flickered to the monitors. Her pulse was closer to normal and, as he watched, it became steady.

 

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked in a hoarse voice. Shireen turned to him getting off the bed, startled.

 

After a moment, she nodded. “She’s going to be fine.”

 

“What happened then? She couldn’t breathe.” He took a step closer hesitantly.

 

“I was actually going to ask you that. She seems to have gone into shock, but her tests don’t show any underlying trauma that could have caused it,” she said. Shireen.

 

He frowned. It didn’t fit. He’d only heard of people going into shock after a horrible injury. How could she be physically healthy and just stop breathing? “What usually causes shock?” Shireen looked at Sansa and then back to Jon.

 

“We should talk outside. She’ll be waking up soon.” They stepped into the hallway, pulling the curtain shut behind them. Shireen explained, “There are two types of shock: physiological and psychological. I could go into detail, but it’s obviously not anything physical, because the tests would have shown that so has she received any disturbing news in the past few days or been in any accidents? There may not have been a physical injury but the trauma of it can lead to shock. It’s also uncommon, I wouldn’t say rare, for a person’s fear to cause shock as well. Is there anything you can think of that would explain it?”

 

He shook his head. Not because he didn’t know. The last two days had seen Sansa scared of him, attacked by Sandor in their home, and now, one of her closest friends was most likely dead, killed by the man who had tortured his wife for years. Or it could be worse. He pictured himself blocking Sansa’s path to the door, throwing the television on the floor. Maybe the tape hadn’t hurt her as much as his own reaction had. She’d reached for him, but had he contributed to this?

 

“Can I sit with her?”

 

She nodded. “Of course. I want to keep her overnight for observation but if she doesn’t exhibit any other symptoms, I can discharge her in the morning.”

 

He walked back into the room to find Sansa awake this time. She was looking around the room with wide, confused eyes until they fell on him. She sucked in her bottom lip and held out a hand which Jon gladly rushed to cradle in his own as he sat in the chair by her bed. “How do you feel?”

 

“Better,” she said squeezing his hand. “What happened?” Her voice was tired and weak, and he reached up one of his hands to brush a hair away from her forehead. He let his fingers linger on her skin; she wasn’t as cold as she had been. Someone had gotten her out of her dirty clothes and into a hospital gown. He opened his mouth to tell her but a sob caught in his throat. “Jon?” He looked into her eyes then away, pressing his head into the mattress. “Jon?” she asked, more panicked.

 

“I’m sorry. You’re okay,” he rushed to reassure her. “I was just so… so scared and I’m so grateful and happy that you’re safe. I love you so much and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” He blinked away his tears and lifted his head up but felt too ashamed to look at her. “I – I know that I scared you and I promise I will never lose control like that again, ever.”

 

She put her hand underneath his chin until he was forced to meet her eyes. When he did, she smiled softly. She kept her hand there but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know how to explain any of it to him yet so she said nothing, just held his hand and looked at him with no judgment, hoping that would be enough until she did. The only thing she could say was, "I'm glad you're here."

 

He bent his head and swallowed a sob. She shushed him quietly running her fingers over his head letting her fingernails graze his scalp soothingly. His shoulders shook and quiet, wet gasps escaped him as he struggled to regain control. He bent his head for a few moments and wiped his tears away roughly with the pad of his fingers.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said in a much calmer voice than she’d expected. “You shouldn’t be seeing me like this right now. You need to rest and –“

 

“Rest?” she interrupted. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to know this. I want to see you and know every part of you, Jon. I just…” she paused and looked about the room, searching for the words. He made her feel in a way she had never thought possible. He made her heart swell with hope when he looked at her and clench with worry when he hurt. She took a shaky breath. He leaned forward slightly when she began to say in a soft, slow voice, “I just don’t know how to express myself well. I never had to before. It was made very clear after my mother died that how I felt and what I wanted didn’t matter anymore.” Her voice broke.

 

“It matters to me.”

 

“I know it does and I wish I was better at this than I am because I don’t want to hurt you, ever, by not knowing how to tell you how I feel. Or what I do feel,” she added. He lifted their hands off of the bed a little and laced his fingers with hers.

 

“Can you try to tell me what you felt tonight?” he asked tentatively. “You were scared of me.”

 

“Yes, I was scared, but not  _ of _ you, Jon. I am scared all of the time and I care about Gendry. He’s my friend and I am a horrible person for thinking this,” she said looking up as she tried not to cry. “I am a disgusting human being.” He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest but she continued with, “I was overwhelmed and scared but when you freaked out, my focus shifted and I realized that if Gendry dies,  _ you’re next _ .”

 

“And that’s when you… couldn’t breathe?” She nodded her eyes fixed on the blanket. He cleared his throat and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers until her eyes met his. “You don’t have to worry about that because nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.”

 

She let out a small breath of a laugh because she wanted to believe him, badly, but it wasn’t something anyone could promise. Sandor was out there, getting more volatile by the second, and he wasn’t picking his victims at random anymore. He was going after the people she cared about the most, and Jon was at the top of that list. They couldn't afford to let him make the rules anymore.


	16. too late

Tyene watched the exchange through a slit in the curtain and was again struck by how much this man loved this woman. She was glad that the woman she’d found was better off than she’d thought she’d be. Having someone who loved you was all the difference, wasn’t it? Sansa had someone that hurt when she hurt, made her feel. Tyene could tell how deeply she cared about him in return, how her body had been tense and then relaxed when her eyes met his. And whatever she’d told her husband in that small, quiet voice had given Jon the same ease in his posture even if she had avoided telling him she loved him back when it was so obvious that she did.

 

Or maybe she was just scrutinizing them too closely. It was part of her job, but it was clear that Jon would do anything to put a stop to the man terrorizing Sansa. That was really all she needed to know. She turned away feeling like she’d eavesdropped enough on their private moment. She wanted to meet her, the woman she’d been searching for for so many years but Sansa was stressed enough without one of the survivors showing up unexpectedly.

 

She pulled out her cell phone and pressed her back against the wall. She wished she had left a phone with Myrcella. She wanted to let her know that her tip had panned out and that because of her, she’d finally made some real progress. She could stop wondering. With whatever information Sansa had, they could actually start working on a way to stop that evil, sadistic man once and for all.

 

How would it feel for all of it to be over? She mused. To be free to move anywhere, do anything and not have this concern and guilt eat away at her joy? This mission, for lack of a better word, had occupied most of her free time since she’d woken up in the hospital swollen and bruised. What would that sort of freedom feel like? What would come next? The idea made her feel lost and off-balance. But then she realized, a smile spreading across her lips, that she could decide whatever happened next. She could stop looking over her shoulder and she could build a real relationship without her girlfriend complaining about how many hours she spent working and how she always held back from letting herself really experience happiness because now she could. She could do that with Myrcella. If she let her.

 

-🐺-

 

Sansa turned away from Jon, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter. She needed to get a hold of herself. She wasn't this girl, the type to get emotional and want to make declarations from a hospital bed. It was sappy and overly romantic and that wasn't her... at all. She needed to get some of that emotion locked up tight and start thinking clearly. Sandor was going to kill Gendry. He was going to kill Jon if he had the chance. There wasn't time for her to be distracted by her feelings. There wasn't time. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

 

"Oh no, you have to stay to rest, Sansa," he said coming over to her side to nudge her back into it.

 

She held her hand up to stay him and said, "I'm fine, aren't I? I can do this. I am not afraid anymore." She looked up at him with such a steely gaze, he believed her. He could see that she was more determined than afraid now, but even so, letting her leave the hospital after he'd thought he was going to lose her didn't feel right. And he said so. She lifted an eyebrow. "You aren't letting me do anything. We've been over that and this," she said waving a hand to her surroundings, "doesn't change anything." She opened a drawer and found her jeans. She slid them on underneath her gown. “I need a shower and a change of clothes and then I'm going to see Sandor."

 

“No, you're not, Sansa.” He crossed his arms and shook his head, his eyes mirroring hers. She reached back into the drawer and couldn't find her shirt. Damn. She grabbed the ends of her gown and made a knot with them at her side. That should be enough until she got home. She moved towards the door, and Jon took hold of her wrist gently, his grip so loose, she could shake it off with the barest effort. "Sansa, are you trying to get yourself killed? You just had, like, the biggest panic attack I've ever seen," he said, poking his neck out a bit, "and now you're leaving the hospital to see the guy who put you here?"

 

"I'm leaving the hospital to save a friend."�

 

"And if you die in the process?"

 

She barked a harsh laugh. Her shoulders shook with it and she bent her head, her hair framing her face. When she raised her head, she was still smiling.

 

"Trust me. He won't ever really hurt me. Matter of fact, if he'd known I was here, he'd have been right beside you in that waiting room, tears in his eyes and all. He -- God, I don't understand it either, Jon,” she said at his flummoxed expression, "but even though he hates me, he can't stop himself from caring about me in some way. He could never see me dead. There’s a reason why it’s one girl dead while I’m alive, three if I’m not." He didn't know what to say. She sounded so certain. "But Gendry? You? He'd kill you both without even thinking."

 

She could be wrong, though. He could be tired of the mental torture and want to move on to the physical. He’d already touched her once. He could have realized that now that she was out of that house, he'd lost too much of his power over her. He could have anything planned to make sure he got it back. It wasn't safe. "I still don't think it's a good idea. We can find another way to save Gendry."

 

She tsked.

 

-🐺-

 

A shrill rang woke Ned from his deep reverie. He had been lying in bed but not sleeping; it hadn't been something that came easily for him since Catelyn died. On nights like this when the silence grew too heavy, he couldn’t help thinking of things that he could have done differently. How many choices did he need to change to save Catelyn’s life? He turned on the bedside lamp before picking up the phone.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Mr. Stark, it's Brienne. I'm sorry to wake you. It’s about Sansa. She’s alright, but Mr. Snow thought you should know she was brought into the E.R. two hours ago." There was a pause in which Ned cursed and asked what happened. "I don't know, sir. Mr. Snow carried her in. It didn’t look good," she said sadly.

 

His heart clenched in his chest. "Where?"

 

"Wintertown Hospital.” He dropped the phone into its cradle and rushed to his dresser. He couldn’t think of what his life would be if anything happened to Sansa. His breath hitched. He needed to get to her. 

 

-🐺-

 

They had argued for a few minutes more about whether or not it was too dangerous for Sansa to try to save Gendry by contacting Sandor. She was sure that she was winning until she got a dizzy spell getting up. Jon stopped her from falling and brought her to the bed with only a slight smug smile. The argument may not be over yet but, for tonight, she had to agree that she needed the rest. It wouldn’t help Gendry if she collapsed negotiating with Sandor.

 

Jon held her to his bare chest on her bed, having gotten rid of the vomit-soaked shirt and clean in the sink. He listened to her breathing slow as she fell asleep. He pulled back a little to look down at her. The color was slowly coming back to her face but her brow was slightly puckered. He placed a light kiss on the crease and she sighed contentedly, her face becoming a peaceful mask. God, she was beautiful… and miraculously his. He had never hoped that this arrangement would work out. Now, he loved her more than he could describe.

 

If Sandor ever tried to hurt her again – he felt his muscles tense and his chest seize.

 

An hour or so later, he heard a noise outside of the door and his head turned. He lifted Sansa’s head from his shoulder and put it gently on the bed. He crept toward the noise, watching the door open inch by inch, his fist raised because no nurse or doctor would try to enter the room so secretively. The door opened entirely and he swung before he had a clear view of who it was. The man dodged his punch, holding his arms to the side and looking up in surprise. Jon’s mouth dropped; it was Sansa’s father.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he began. “I thought –” Ned raised his brows and Jon pressed his lips together. There must be a reason why Sansa’s father still didn’t know what Sandor had been doing. He was either grossly negligent or would be in more danger than Sansa could stomach if he did know. “I’m just cautious.”

 

Ned nodded, his eyes sliding to Sansa who was still sound asleep. He walked to her side and placed a hand on the face so like his late wife’s. “How is she?” he asked in a quiet voice.

 

“Better than she was.” He closed the door and stepped further into the room. He was still on his guard; he had to be. He couldn’t trust anyone with Sansa now, not even her father. “She went into shock. Stress. All she really needs now is rest.”

 

His gaze met Jon’s, and he noted how anxious he remained. She must have given her new husband quite a scare.

 

“Can you give us a moment?” he asked. “I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.” Jon took a breath, ready to deny him but Ned smiled knowingly before he could speak. “I didn’t think so.” Jon leaned back on his heels, his eyes traveling between Sansa and Ned. The chair squeaked against the floor as Ned Sat, and Sansa woke.

 

She searched the room in a panic until she saw Jon and relaxed. “Ned?” She held out her hand and Jon came to her side immediately, sitting beside her and enveloping her hand in his. “What are you doing here?”

 

“You should be asking why I wasn’t here sooner. It took hours for me to be notified.” She averted her gaze. “I’m glad that you’re okay, sweetheart.” Her eyes tightened at the endearment. She could barely remember the last time she had had a real conversation with her father, and his affectionate nature had died with Catelyn. “I was worried.” And he looked like he had been. She didn’t know what to feel for a moment and then her heart felt like it filled and she felt tears she quickly blinked away prick her eyes. Ned turned his head, rubbing his neck.

 

“Jon says you’ve been under stress.” His voice trailed off for her to answer his unasked question, but she would not. She had no reason to allow this man to know anything about her. She stared hard at him, and he floundered. It was only when the possibility of her death became real for him that he realized how disconnected they were. He knew nothing of the woman in front of him. But he knew how to bridge the gap. “Your mother had that same look about her when she was in a strop. She could level a man with a look.”

 

She sat up straight, her eyes fixed on him. Ned hadn’t mentioned Catelyn in years and only ever in a quick remark before he disappeared into his study or off on another business trip. 

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I thought it might be a comfort.”

 

“You don’t care about comforting me.” Jon shifted his body closer to hers, his arm around her waist now. She put a hand on his thigh out of Ned’s sight. “Why are you here?”

 

“You’re hurt. I’m your father, and I love you. It’s not unreasonable for me to see that you’re alright myself.”

 

Sansa surprised both men when she huffed a laugh. She leaned away from Jon’s arms, trying to get herself under control but she couldn’t. Finally, she was able to stop. She shook her head and gave her father a dubious look. She tilted her head at him, the smile still on brightening her face, but he only stared at her seriously until the smile slipped and the laughter in her chest died. 

 

“Love me? You don’t even know me. You don’t talk to me. You can barely stand to look at me. You let Sandor,” she swallowed. “Did you know?”

 

“Sweetheart, what...”

 

“What he did to me, what he did to mum, _ did you know _ ?” Ned’s jaw clenched, his eyes closing. “I remember. Not all of it. Not enough, but it’s not hard to work out. You said there was an intruder. Somebody broke in, and you, you, you… but you weren’t even home,” she said quickly ignoring her father shaking his head while she spoke. “I remember. She was crying. There was so much blood.” The image of her mother lying there in that pool of blood was ingrained in her mind. Her father had not been there. No, it was just her, Catelyn and Sandor. 

 

“Sansa, calm down,” Jon said.

 

He shot Ned an irritated glare as he tried to pull her back in his embrace. There was never a good time for family discord but this had to be the worst. She almost died tonight from the stress she was under and now her father couldn’t be bothered to say anything that might actually help her?

 

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she said in a lethal tone. He raised his hands and nodded. They both turned to her father and she asked with equal menace, “Did you know?” She wanted to scream it. Did you know? Did you know? Did you fucking know?!

 

He cleared his throat and poured himself a cup of water. His hand shook as he swallowed it and poured himself another. Without looking at either of them, he answered, “Sandor has been my closest friend for over twenty years. He cared about C-Cat. He loved her. We named him your godfather. It was only right that he stepped up for you when she died and I was… ”

 

Sansa leaned back in her bed with her arms crossed. He made himself look at her now. Her made himself look at her now. Her hair was a shade lighter than Catelyn’s, her lips fuller, her nose a touch longer, her eyes more shadowed. He couldn’t imagine, so he spoke instead.

 

“There is much you don’t know about your mother and me. You were so young when she died you may not remember, but we both loved you very much, Sansa. She would have given her life to keep you safe.” His voice lowered and he shook his head minutely. “Whatever you think of me, know that I would do the same. I would not stand by and allow you to be harmed.”

 

Her mind was literally spinning. She placed her fingertips at her temples to stop it. Ned started speaking again; she didn’t want to hear him. She wanted to put her hands over her ears to drown out the lies, but she was no longer a child.

 

“I told you that Sandor was overbearing. I told you that he murdered Willas. You didn’t believe me. You took his side. You always took his side.”

 

“What happened to the Tyrell boy was his own fault.”

 

“Right.”

 

Ned rolled his neck, not wanting to have this argument again. “I did not know Sandor had ever hurt you or your mother. If I had, he would be dead now. Do you believe me?”

 

“I believe that you didn’t want to know.” Jon gave her hand a squeeze.

 

“Did he…” he couldn’t voice it.

 

“You had me living like a prisoner when the killer was inside the house the whole time.” She gave him a disgusted once-over. “I’m sorry that losing her broke your heart. I’m even sorrier that you broke mine.”

 

Her voice broke, and Ned cleared his throat uncomfortably. Jon’s eyes went back and forth between the two. “You are the daughter of a head of the family. The more powerful I have gotten, the more attempts have been made to use you to control me. You needed to be protected. I’ll concede that it was too much. I’ll concede that I should have paid better attention. Can you forgive me for being lost in my grief?”

 

“I don’t know, Daddy,” she said. The anger had left her voice, replaced with a bone-tired weariness. She felt small beneath the weight of it. “I spent all of these years making myself believe that you couldn’t possibly know because you would have stopped it. But how could you love me and not have noticed the way he looks at me or that every day after he guarded me, I was different, sadder, more afraid? You closed your eyes to the pain I was in.” Tears were falling freely now. She didn’t swipe them away. She wanted him to see. “You just washed your hands of it. Why did you let him do this to me?” His mouth moved but he made no sound. Her chin came up as she pressed her lips together against the sob building. She nodded to herself. “Right. Well, don’t bother interfering now.”

 

“I think you should leave,” Jon said after Ned had sat unmoving for a moment. He jolted when Jon spoke and then looked to Sansa.

 

“Yes. Please do fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my favorite chapter to write. i hope you all like it!


	17. sell your soul, not your whole self

It had been foolish to carry the hope that getting married and moving out of Winterfell would stop Sandor’s torture. She felt stupid to think of the anticipation of relief she’d felt leading up to her wedding. It was never going to end. She was his, and nothing she ever did would make that untrue. She’d never escape his plans for her, his endless need to punish her for simply… existing?

 

Gendry, her only friend, was out there, probably dead. She could only bring back that useless emotion, hope, and pray that Sandor wanted to use him as a bargaining chip and that he was, by the grace of God or whoever made these life and death decisions, still alive. But if he was dead… he wouldn’t die in vain. A bullet filled the chamber of the gun she held. As much as a part of her wanted to be strong on her own, she was not alone in this anymore. She had someone who would fight every battle with her. He would die for her if need be, but it wouldn’t come to that. She strapped the gun to her ankle and loaded two more with clips.

 

Jon was already in his trademark leather jacket with his guns ready, so he was able to sit on the couch and watch Sansa prepare herself. He was glad he’d let her sleep because he wouldn’t have wanted to miss this. It was a cliché, he knew, but there really was nothing sexier than Sansa decked out in black, preparing for a fight.

 

Her eyes were steely and her mouth was set determinedly. She’d pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. The more weapons she put on her, from guns to knives hidden discreetly, the more her eyes filled with an altogether different emotion: bloodlust. He could feel her need to make Sandor pay, to paint the walls with his blood. He felt his cock stir in his jeans. She was dead sexy like this. He was torn between his desire to see her in action and taking her now. She looked over her shoulder at him and when she saw the look in his eyes, she gave him a sly smile and licked her lips. She adjusted her jacket, black leather like his own, to hide the guns and turned to him.

 

“Jon,” she said.

 

“Yeah?” he asked with an innocent expression but he couldn’t hide the glimmer in his eyes as they drank her in again.

 

“We should leave.”

 

“Tyene isn’t here yet.” Tyene. She had yet to meet the woman who had approached Jon in the hospital but she was, for whatever reason, on their side. She’d left Jon her card, and he had called her as soon as Sansa had gotten released from the hospital. She agreed to do whatever she could to help but she wasn’t here yet. Jon took a few steps toward Sansa. “I think we have at least twenty minutes,” he added suggestively. She grinned and shook her head at him but want filled her eyes.

 

“Twenty?” she asked in a dubious tone. Her eyes fell to the growing bulge at his crotch. She looked to the door and back to him. They’d better make it fast then. She pulled him closer to her by his leather jacket. He lifted her onto the desk and positioned himself between her legs. Her fingers slid under the cotton of his t-shirt, hovering just above his skin as she moved up his abs calling a shudder out of him. Her fingers moved down to his stomach to his belt. She looped her fingers around the loops and pulled him roughly forward, his groin hitting her center with a lip-biting thud.

 

She let out a breathy moan and he leaned forward to catch her lips in his. It was gentle at first, his lips barely brushing hers, their breath mingling. His tongue slid out to taste her and before he could pull it back, her mouth was on his, sucking it into her mouth in a kiss that made his cock strain against his jeans to get to her. She kissed him deeply and a leg around his waist pulled him closer still. Their lips stayed locked, only removing themselves briefly to get air as the kiss intensified. His hands ran up her spine and her hips ground her heat against him. His hands found her neck and caressed the skin there. It felt silky against his calloused hands and he blazed a trail down her chest to cup her breast. She leaned into it and her legs tightened around him. Their soft moans were the only sound in the room.

 

“Jon.” She pushed his jacket down his arms and he let go of her reluctantly to take it off. She pulled him back to her, her hands sliding up his bare back and moving around the sides to let her fingernails graze his nipples. He groaned and she smiled into the kiss.

 

He let out a frustrated groan though when he heard the knuckles rapping on his door. He broke the kiss but jutted himself against her again, forcing a surprised gasp from her lips. Later. He took a step back, and she hopped off of the desk, her eyes fixed to the erection showing through his pants. Another knock and she bit her lip indecisively. She wondered if she could simply tell Tyene to come back in ten minutes. Right now, this seemed much more important. It twitched under her gaze and then was gone. Jon had turned away to get the door.

 

“Later,” he murmured to her. She gave a disappointed nod and stooped to pick up his jacket from the floor.

 

“You’re better,” Tyene said walking in. Sansa stood and froze when she saw Tyene. Her eyes wide; she took a hesitant step forward.

 

“I thought… I thought you were dead?” Her fingers tightened around the jacket and Jon looked between the two of them, his brow puckered. He took a step to put himself between Tyene and Sansa. Sansa’s eyes slid to his and, shaking her head, she said, “She’s the one who needs to be protected.” Jon nodded but moved to stand beside Sansa anyway.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I’m someone who wants the man who’s using girls to hurt her to pay as much as you do.” She faced Sansa. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time. I’m glad you’re still alive.” She gave her an impressed nod as she took in her attire. “Alive and fighting.”

 

Sansa closed the distance between them. “I am so sor—”

 

“I don’t want your apologies,” Tyene interrupted firmly. “I want his.” She patted her side where her gun was. “I’ll get it in blood.”

 

- **🐺** -

 

Somewhere in her subconscious, she must have always known that it would come to this. Maybe that was why her heartbeat was so steady and her breath even. It was going to end tonight. She was done playing the cowering prey to his predator, the victim to his perpetrator. She wouldn’t let him hide behind innocents anymore. Too many had already suffered. Sandor showed no mercy, but she wasn’t scared of him anymore.

 

She was determined. She was bloodthirsty. It was going to end tonight. She slid her hand up Jon’s arm to rub the back of his neck. He was tense, his muscles tight. She let her fingers scratch his scalp soothingly. She hated that she had to keep this from him but he would never understand what it was like. He would never know what it was to be helpless to stop the screams of agony, to know no safety, no peace. He loved her. He thought he could save her, but he couldn’t. Sandor would never stop. If he died, how many women would die until whoever he’d left the instructions with stopped? How many deaths could she endure?

 

None.

 

She took a deep breath inhaling Jon’s woodsy scent that enveloped her in his car. She had to do this for him, to keep him safe, and every other person Sandor planned to hurt. It was all done to torture her so, while everyone was coming up with plans to rescue Gendry, she had come to a realization. She was the one who needed to be taken out of the equation. She was the one who needed to make a sacrifice. Jon gave her a sidelong glance laced with suspicion and her eyebrows rose. Sometimes, it was almost like he could read her mind.

 

“I want you to promise me something,” Jon said taking her hand from his neck and intertwining their fingers. “Please.” He kissed the back of her hand.

 

“What is it?” Her voice was wary and her back straight. 

 

- **🐺** -

 

Jeyne turned the paper clip over in her hand, pushing it until it was straight. Right, so she just had to find a way out of this concrete room. It would be fine. It’d only take thirty years to scratch her way to the outside. She let out a loud sigh and flopped onto the floor, throwing it aside. She wondered how that man was. Gendry. The last few days she’d only been taken out of this room to go to the bathroom or to check on him. Though the guard had always made sure to stay close so they hadn’t been able to speak again. He was regaining his strength quicker than she had expected for a gunshot victim but then again… his life depended on it.

 

It seemed her life did as well.

 

No, she would have to fight her way out of this on her own. Against guns and men who were twice as strong as she was. Just because she hadn’t been hurt, just because they hadn’t done anything to her yet didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. The threat was always there and they hadn’t bothered to cover their faces. She’d seen enough movies to know that that meant she was probably going to die at the end of this. They wouldn’t let her go if she could identify them. Right, she told herself again with a nod. So she would fight. And if she could save that man who was stuck here with her, that would be a bonus.

 

- **🐺** -

 

Tyene followed behind Jon and Sansa in her own car. She had been waiting for this day for too long. The woman who’d been willing to die for her was safe, although she wasn’t simple enough to believe Sansa’s life had been in danger. It was only the desperation and defeat in Sansa’s voice then that assured Tyene that she’d spoken truly.

 

Now, they were going to finally put an end to the bastard who’d almost killed her. But the closer they got to their destination, the more she realized that there was a very big chance that she may not survive this. This man had gone unpunished for a reason. He was smart. He was always one step ahead. They were loaded with guns and had his obsession with them, but he also had some friend of Sansa’s that she was determined to save.

 

That wasn’t Tyene’s priority. No, she had to ensure that what happened to her and Myrcella and the other nameless women Sandor had tortured would never happen again. She had to stop another woman from waking up in a cage, being touched against their will, beaten, and brutalized. Sansa wanted that, too, but she was focused on not adding another name to her list of regrets just as Jon’s sole intent was keeping Sansa safe. In this, Tyene wasn’t limited by love and friendship. She wanted Sansa safe but she also wanted – no, needed – vengeance.

 

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and her heart rate quickened as she fished it out. Only two people had this number and neither of them calling meant it was good news.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, are you kicking ass yet?” Myrcella asked lightly but Tyene could hear the worry in her voice.

 

“Not yet. We’re still driving there. I thought I told you not to call me unless it was an emergency.”

 

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have told me you were going after this guy now because instead of reading those Italian Vogues I’m so happy you got me, I keep imagining you getting hurt or killed or, I don’t know, I’m freaking out here,” she said in a breath.

 

Tyene nodded. She would have kept it to herself if her dying didn’t mean Myrcella should go somewhere else for protection. “Wasn’t an option, remember?”

 

“Neither is me just sitting here not knowing what’s going on.” Tyene smiled at Myrcella’s disgruntled tone.

 

“Did you eat?”

 

“Yeah, I had some of that weird looking pasta thing you bought. It was actually pretty good…” There was a pause and Tyene could almost hear Myrcella struggling with how to word something correctly.

 

“Please come back,” she finally said. Her soft plea wrapped around Tyene’s heart, filling her entirely. “Don’t die.”

 

“I won’t,” she promised.

 

- **🐺** -

 

“Absolutely not,” she said angrily. “No.”

 

“Well, whatever you’re planning sure as hell isn’t going to happen, so it’s either this or --”

 

“Or what? You’ll turn this car around, Dad?” Jon glared at her and Sansa scoffed, shaking her head. “I know you want to protect me but this all started with  _ me _ . At the end of the day, this is my fight.”

 

“That’s what you don’t get. There is no your or my. We got married and I fell in love with you which makes your problems my problems,” he replied just as angrily. He glanced at her and saw her set her jaw. He took a deep breath and forced himself to soften his tone. “Do you believe that I love you?” She merely looked out the window. “Do you believe that I love you, Sansa?”

 

She turned back for her eyes to clash with his. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger because you love me.”

 

“Actually, that’s exactly what it means.”

 

“Well, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED! I am  _ not _ going to leave you behind if something goes wrong so you can forget about it. ”

 

“Worst case scenario only. You know that’s the smart play. Why can’t you just admit it?”

 

“Because I love you, too! You are not allowed to die. End of.” 


	18. small hands

Each had a gun in their hand as they walked into the warehouse. Sansa stood in the front with Jon and Tyene, who could sense the tension between the two, flanking her. She walked until she was a few feet away from Sandor, Gendry and another woman. He had taped their mouths shut, and their hands tied at their backs as they sat at his feet. They leaned on each other, their unseen hands grasping at each other. Sandor stood tall in front of five men holding automatic rifles. He eyed== her with a condescending smirk. She almost snarled.

 

“Sansa, you came. I thought you might think better of it seeing as how I have the upper hand yet again but you were never very intelligent, were you? Beauty, yes. No brains.”

 

“That is what you’d like me to believe.” Sansa chuckled.

 

Tyene and Jon eyed the other men, calculating whether or not they could kill them before they were able to fire a single shot. Unlikely with five against three and Sandor was sure to be hiding a weapon on him, the deceitful bastard. They had men outside, of course, but he was sure Sandor had more men as well. The last thing Jon needed was a gunfight to break out and Sansa to be caught in the crossfire.

 

But Sansa wasn’t concerned with those thoughts. Sandor wanted her alive, and none of them would risk her moving in front of a bullet meant for someone else. It was just a show of power. They were there to intimidate her; that wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Let them go,” Tyene said, “or we’ll kill you.”

 

“Either way, you’re dead,” Jon assured.

 

Sandor ignored them and looked at Sansa who in her contained rage, her derision when she smirked at him knowingly, reminded him so much of Catelyn that he was the one to break eye contact.

 

She started toward him and Jon, the gun still in his hand, put his arm in front of her to stop her. She faced him and could see in the quirk of his jaw that he was wrestling with whether or not to focus on their enemies or keeping her safe within his grasp. But she wasn’t safe there and she wouldn’t be anywhere. Not until Sandor or she was dead. She knew that, so she shook her arm out of his and advanced on Sandor. The men flanking him made no moves against her as she’d known they wouldn’t. He may be an abusive asshole but he was possessive. If anyone hurt her, it had to be him.

 

“They’re going to leave, all of them, and then you and I are going to have a talk,” she said, kneeling in front of Gendry and the woman. She put her gun on the floor between her and Gendry and knelt to get the dagger strapped to her ankle. She held it in to the rope and looked back up at Sandor for his answer. He narrowed his eyes but gave her an infinitesimal nod.

 

Jon growled at the exchange. He wasn’t going to give Sandor a chance to be alone with her. But Tyene and Sandor were both smiling albeit for different reasons. Tyene admired how Sansa had found a way to get the kidnap victims safely out of the way before they dealt with Sandor and started a full-on gunfight. Sandor could only see Catelyn in front of him. He liked this side of her, the one that made him want to punish her. He liked to see her standing up to him because he loved the look in her eyes when her bravado failed her and those blue eyes filled with fear instead.

 

Sansa stood up with the one gun cocked at her side. Gendry had ripped the tape from his mouth and was now taking the woman’s off with much more care. He undid the binding at her wrists, rubbed them and helped her stand.

 

The woman watched him pick up the gun. Jeyne couldn’t help but cringe at how familiar he seemed to be with it. He nudged her away from the men who’d held them captive, the gun aimed and his body shielding her. She shuddered and looked toward the door and back to him. He shook his head. Not yet.

 

“Now that you have him, why don’t you and I go for that chat, Sansa?” Sandor asked. Sansa stared; she heard a footstep behind her and pressed her lips together. It was Jon advancing; she didn’t have to look to know but she did anyway. His mouth, his eyes, the power in his body… he was perfect. Her heart clenched and she found herself walking briskly to his side, not caring that Sandor was calling for her behind her, not stopping until she walked into his arms and her lips met his. His arm wrapped around her waist and she leaned her body into his, their chests meeting as her arms wrapped around his neck.

 

She had a plan. A plan to leave, to end everything. But she needed this. She needed the way his tongue ran over the roof of her mouth sending a shiver down her spine. She needed his body molded to hers. She needed one last memory of how his hand felt sliding up her back.

 

She pulled away from the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open; his eyes were on her lips and she brushed them against his one last time before saying, “I can handle this. Please wait for me in the car.”

 

He tensed. “Not going to happen, Sansa.” She looked to where Sandor was seething and brought her mouth to his ear.

 

He was already shaking his head. “He’s not going to hurt me. He could kill you,” she murmured.

 

“I don’t care,” he whispered back. “You’re not doing this alone.”

 

She watched him for a moment and then nodded. “Change of plans,” she said in a louder voice. “Tyene, I need you to get Gendry and –“

 

“Jeyne.”

 

“Jeyne out of here.” When Tyene opened her mouth to protest, Sansa held up a hand. “There’s no one else,” she ordered. “Please just do it.”

 

Tyene’s upper lip curled. She knew that Sansa had more of a score to settle with this man than she did. She knew that but this wasn’t just her fight anymore and she was going to have to get over that. She was going to wake the fuck up and realize that Tyene wasn’t leaving without some blood on her hands. She put one of her guns in her waistband to toss her keys to Jeyne.

 

“Alright if I get a ride back with you?” she asked. Sansa’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t respond.

 

Tyene smirked and motioned Jeyne toward the door. Jeyne walked for a few steps until she realized Gendry wasn’t following her. She considered him over her shoulder and then was at his side. “You were shot. Staying here right now isn’t brave. It’s stupid. So, you’re coming with me. Let’s go.” She took his hand firmly and he tossed Sansa his gun as they left.

 

Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief. Two out of three wasn’t bad. “There’s three of us. Take two of your men and we’ll talk. Otherwise, it’s not going to happen.”

 

“I am sure you do not want an audience for what I’m going to do to you.”

 

“You are not going to touch me. Now, we can talk in your office or I can detonate the explosives I set outside and we can talk in hell.” Yeah, that wasn’t true but a good bluff never hurt anybody.

 

He lifted up his chin to stare down on her. After a moment, he nodded. “Janos, Meryn,” he snapped his fingers. He walked toward another section of the warehouse and Jon, Tyene and Sansa followed behind him. The men he hadn’t signaled started to follow behind. Jon shook his head at them thrusting his gun forward a bit.

 

“You want to leave before we’re finished. If you’re here when I come back, you’re dead.” They gave him incredulous looks.

 

“That’s Jon Snow. You might want to listen,” Sansa said.

 

At his name, their expressions grew wary and they backed up.

 

_ Yeah, that’s what I thought.  _

 

-🐺-

 

Twenty minutes of stonewalling and compromises that did not let either of them win, because he was becoming more talk and less action as he had always been when he had an audience, Sansa asked in a sad, defeated tone, “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you hadn’t decided to hate me?” Sandor’s guards had been quiet during the conversation but Jon and Tyene were not shy about showing their hostility, their need to rip him into pieces. At her words, the room fell silent. Because no amount of blood spilling would make what had happened alright. It wouldn’t change the constant fear she had lived in or the countless women who had been tortured in the name of punishing her.

 

And she was tired, so tired of fighting to keep sane. He looked at her then and her insides ran cold. For just a moment, the coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils and shrieks sounded in her ears. She blinked and the memory was gone. It did not go unnoticed by Sandor who smiled at her sardonically.

 

“We might as well talk about it because there’s no way you’re going to get what you want. I’m not going anywhere with you and neither is Jon,” she said.

 

“Yet, you ask me to let you go be with a child. It’s impossible.” He ran his eyes over her body and raised an eyebrow slowly as he met her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Jon, I just can’t take it anymore. We’re going around in circles.”

 

“What –“

 

She stepped away from Jon and Tyene and raised one gun to her temple and let the other drop.

 

“Sansa,” he cautioned with his hands reaching toward her. She looked over at Sandor and he was in the same stance, his mouth agape. “Don’t do this, please, Sansa. Please.”

 

Tyene hadn’t moved, her guns still drawn on the men behind Sandor. Sansa’s eyes flit to Tyene’s before she turned her gaze on Sandor, letting her eyes fill with tears. Tyene could see her being a beautiful, tragic martyr. Jon and Sandor would weep before they tried to kill each other. But that wasn’t her plan. All these men were too distracted by what Sansa might do to notice that her safety was still on.

 

So, while Jon was pleading and Sandor was yelling for her to stop her juvenile behavior at once and the men all had their eyes on Sansa and Jon waiting for either of them to surprise them by turning their gun Sandor, Tyene fired.

 

A bullet cut through each guard’s brain. In the span it took for Sandor to flinch and Jon to tackle Sansa to the ground, shielding her body with his own, Sansa flung the dagger. More gunshots sounded as the guards’ fingers tightened on their triggers as they fell to the stone ground. Sandor dropped as well, clutching his knee though he was smart enough not to remove the knife.

 

When there was silence again – apart from Sandor’s screaming – Sansa peeked around Jon’s shoulder to see Tyene standing up, wiping the dust of her jeans and leather jacket. Tyene cocked her head.

 

Sandor tried to crawl over to a gun to protect himself but Sansa had already pushed Jon off of her and was at his side. She pressed the gun into his forehead. “I’m not going to kill you… yet.”

 

“But you will suffer,” Jon promised.

 

-🐺-

 

She had waited for this day for years. The thought of the man who’d left her to die suffering had fueled her work. It had shaped her existence, deciding her career path and what she held important. She hadn’t been able to form real relationships before because this had to be her focus: avenging herself and the woman who had almost died for her. But now she knew he was finished. Snow’s men had made quick work of Sandor’s. There was no way he could talk himself out of this; the hate and disgust in Jon’s and Sansa’s eyes proved that.

 

Sandor was going to die. She had thought that she needed to see it for herself, see the fear enter his eyes while life was ripped violently from his body, yet while they drove into town, that wasn’t what held her attention. It was Myrcella. After everything she had done and sacrificed to see this, now, all she wanted to do was take her life back. She wanted to live her life and she wanted that life to be with Myrcella.

 

So, when they pulled up to an intersection in town, Tyene said she was getting out.

 

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked. “I thought you –”

 

“I know.” She just shrugged and, thinking of Myrcella waiting for her, gave Sansa a smile. “But I need to go home now.” There was a short pause in which Jon and Sansa communicated silently. “Kill him,” Tyene said bringing their attention back to her. “Make him suffer.”

 

“I will,” Sansa said determinedly with a nod. Tyene opened the car door to get out. “I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am and how grateful I am for your help.”

 

Tyene’s gaze softened and Jon looked out the window to give them some privacy.

 

“I never wanted anyone to get hurt and… I just... I hope…” She had almost asked if they could stay in touch, maybe even be friends, but that would be taking it too far. There was something easy in their shared look back there, but it was one thing to work with someone for a common goal or even to want them safe. It was an entirely different thing to be able to love them as genuinely and purely as a friend does after you’d almost been killed because of them.

 

Tyene sensed Sansa’s need to say more. “I’m happy. More so now that I know you will be,” she said, her eyes twinkling with real delight. She hopped out of the car. “I’ll see you around.”

 

The door closed and Tyene was walking briskly away. Sansa leaned back in her chair and turned to Jon who put his hand in hers comfortingly.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Let’s go take care of this,” she said, giving him a kiss between each word as she held his face, “so I can take you home.”

 

He smiled and pressed his foot onto the gas pedal. She was amazing. Being raised in a home with fear and indifference hadn’t stopped her from taking a chance on him. That she felt safe enough with him to be vulnerable filled him with warmth. He felt loved and special even before she’d screamed that she loved him today, but it was nice to finally hear it. He wanted to again so, when he raised their intertwined fingers to kiss the back of her hand, he said, “I love you.”

 

And her smile brightened as she said, “I love you.”

 

-🐺-

 

Sandor struggled against his bonds in the trunk, careful not to jostle himself too much so as not to further injure his knee which made trying to free himself completely ineffective. He sighed and leaned his head back onto the hard carpeted floor.

 

He had not expected the meeting to end in this way. He had had them outnumbered. Apparently, he had underestimated them. He had allowed that woman, while he’d amused himself with watching Sansa’s overdramatic antics, to get the upper hand and surprise them all by firing off her weapon. Three shots unmanned him. Sansa would not allow him to survive this. That much he was sure of.

 

When she looked at him tonight, she’d had such an elegant rage about her, graceful in her fury. She had never reminded him of Catelyn more. She had the best parts of Catelyn- but she was also Stark’s daughter and a symbol of how much the man had meant to Catelyn. She’d chosen Stark over him once. Stark was half the man he was, but he’d borne no scars and made Catelyn laugh. She’d met him and seen no one else.

 

A bitter taste entered his mouth at the memories, and he tried instead to focus on how he made Sansa suffer for that all these years. Even now, that insipid child, gullible as she was, would spend years being tormented with the thought of women dying in her name. They would waste their time trying to discover who his partner in this was. He smiled at that. If she had even a modicum of the intelligence Catelyn had had, she would know how ridiculous the thought of him working with anyone else was. No one would continue killing when the money stopped. But she was as stupid as she was beautiful. At least, he thought, smiling, he could die knowing that every new story of a woman being harmed would put that look of fear and shame back in her eyes.

 

The car stopped, and he heard the doors open and close. He steeled himself with a deep breath and prepared to face his death with an unwavering sense of superiority and disdain.

 

-🐺-

 

Gendry leaned back with a groan on the hospital bed as Jeyne pushed his shoulders down. He didn’t think he needed to go through the process of being seen by a doctor considering he’d been taking antibiotics for days and, obviously, though his gunshot wound had not healed, he really did feel much better. However, Jeyne was a doctor and wasn’t going to allow a patient, let alone a patient who had suffered through such a horrible ordeal with her, leave a hospital without getting proper medical attention. That just simply was not going to happen, so she pushed him back onto the bed, and he groaned in his defeat, causing her to smile softly in victory.

 

She pulled his chart into her lap and sat down on a chair beside the bed, preferring to comb over it rather than look at him. It was strange that in the short time they had known each other, she had learned to feel safe by his side. The knowledge made her uneasy but she was sure it would pass. It made sense that in a very dangerous situation, she would latch onto the one person she felt she could trust and that would become her security. All she had to do was leave, deal with the anxiety that caused and then, she would be fine.

 

She just wasn’t ready to do that yet.

 

Besides, it could wait. At least until he was medically cleared.

 

-🐺-

 

Sandor was tied to a chair in an empty warehouse some time later, staring up at Sansa with that condescending smile and refusing to answer any of her questions. She had asked him repeatedly who his partner was and the only sound he’d made aside from the grunts when she’d hit him was to laugh. It had earned him another right hook to his jaw and he’d spat blood but, still, he wouldn’t speak.

 

“Who are you working with?” She asked without feeling. She lifted her fist to hit him again but Jon caught her hand. She turned to him with a surprised expression and he shook his head. Her jaw twitched but she lowered her hand and turned to Sandor again, taking a deep breath.

 

“I am going to kill you tonight.”

 

There was a pregnant pause. She thought he might keep his silence but then, in a murmur, he replied, “I’m quite aware.”

 

She waited for him to continue. He merely stared up at her as he had done before, with the same infuriating look on his face. After a minute, his eyes slid to Jon and back to her pointedly. She smiled genuinely then.

 

“He’s not leaving, Sandor.” She picked up the gun at her side and pointed it at his uninjured leg. “Tell me who you’re working with.”

 

He shook his head and his shoulders vibrated momentarily with silent laughter. “Next question, love.”

 

“Do you?” Sansa stiffened beside him, alert. He wanted to put a comforting arm around her but he knew her well enough now to know she would not have wanted to seem like she was weak in front of Sandor. Comfort would have to come later.

 

“I wanted to fuck her. That’s something like love.”

 

“It isn’t. You killed her mother. You tried to destroy her, but you’re still nothing to her. Just a nightmare that she’ll forget as soon as she wakes.” Sandor bared his teeth. “You’re dragging this out, because you only feel important when she’s looking at you. After tonight, she won’t even think of you.”

 

“Oh, she’ll never be rid of me, Snow.”

 

“You are going to die tonight, do you understand? There’s no point in trying to make me suffer anymore because you won’t be here to enjoy it. You’ll be dead, and someone else will be getting all the thrill of making me afraid. But, see, I’m not going to be scared.”

 

She took a step closer and bent over to meet his eye level.

 

“Not anymore,” she said coldly.

 

Hours later, there was blood splattered across her face, her clothes. If she hadn’t been so methodical, as emotionally removed from the actions as she could force herself to be, she was sure she’d have had bits of him in her hair. She had been calm and purposeful, wrenching screams out of him until he begged for death. And that he did.

 

She’d never tortured anyone before. There had never been a reason to, but she was surely aware of the techniques, the way to flood the brain with pain without allowing your victim to reach a threshold and become numb, without allowing them the blessed release of unconsciousness. She had been forced to watch Sandor enough to know that. With the other skills her father had wanted her to acquire to become the perfect, useful mob wife, she had hurt Sandor in ways that he had not dreamed of.

 

He lay behind her on the metal table, his body splayed open. He would bleed out soon from his wounds. Sansa wasn’t focused on that. He had had enough of her attention. Her gaze was locked on her hands and forearms, drenched in blood as they were. Jon was just outside the room; he would have heard every shriek from his position by the door but seeing Sansa emerge like this would be something different. Would he be afraid of her? Would he think her as broken as Sandor?

 

Her hands attempted to rub the blood away but only succeeded in creating long streaks of it. She hadn’t cried throughout the process of breaking Sandor but she felt like doing so now. The thought of Jon turning away from her… she couldn’t bear it. She shook her head and reached for the doorknob. Love doesn’t disappear in a moment, not what they have, and more than that, Sansa trusted Jon to understand now. He had never given her reason to doubt his uncanny ability to see the truth of her and love her anyway.

 

She stepped into the hallway and lifted her face to Jon’s. He took in the blood with a quick glance and then met her eyes, a question in his eyes. She couldn’t help the exhalation of relief and joy. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “It’s over now. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Jon came forward heedless of the blood and took Sansa in his arms.

 

“You were so brave, Sansa. You did what you had to do.” It was just what Sansa needed to hear. She felt herself relax further into his embrace. Jon held her tightly for a moment and then, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

They didn’t ride back to the penthouse but to a cabin the Targaryens kept for evidence disposal purposes. She followed him inside, only realizing the reason for the detour after the entered. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She could hardly walk down the street looking like Carrie. Jon led her to the bathroom, peeling the pieces of clothing off of her gently. Where the blood had begun to dry, it was sticking to her skin. Soon, he had her naked under the hot stream of water and her clothes burning in the fireplace.

 

She stood still beneath the water with one hand on the tiled wall for support. The more his blood washed away from her, the more she felt like she could think clearly.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked gently. She shook her head, staring at the bloodied water swirling down the drain.

 

“I was so stupid, Jon. I could have killed him at any time. Any time.”

 

“You couldn’t have known. You were alone. You didn’t have anyone to help you fight that sick bastard. None of this is your fault.”

 

She finally raised her head and lifted her hand to his cheek. Nodding to herself, she said, “I didn’t have you.”

 

“No, you didn’t.” There was relief covering over the concern in his eyes. He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. “But you do now. You have me every day, for the rest of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I went back and forth on whether or not Sandor should actually have a partner. In the end, I kept it the story as is, because it doesn't make sense to me that someone would care to carry out Sandor's wishes after he passed. Not at that scale where they're sure to be caught soon. I also liked the idea of Sansa believing so fully in this 'boogeyman' because Sandor is still an authority figure to her.


	19. free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has made it this far! It's been a real joy to read all of your comments and theories.

They lay on the bed, Sansa’s cheek resting on Jon’s chest. After her shower, they’d decided to stay at the cabin where no one would interrupt or come looking for them. Jon had confirmed that Grenn and Edd had survived the gunfight and had checked in with Gendry. There was no reason they had to rush back to Wintertown.

 

He thought they both needed time to simply be and process after everything that had happened in the past day, few weeks, years. He was right. Sansa felt the layers of worry and uncertainty strip themselves away as the hours passed. They’d lain in silence for a time, and she felt more like herself than she had since receiving the video of Gendry kidnapped, since feeling that the only way out of Sandor’s clutches would be to leave this life and Jon behind with it. Gratitude for Jon’s refusal to leave her side and for Tyene’s quick understanding filled her then. Because of them, she was right where she wanted to be with promise of many years of nights like this to come.

 

“What did you mean when you said you could have killed him any time?” Jon asked. He had a suspicion of what she would say but he needed to hear it from her, hear that this was truly over and they wouldn’t need to be looking through newspapers or over their shoulders.

 

She took a breath, running her fingers along the lines of his abdomen. She lifted her head off of him to look at him. “All those women I let him torture because he said that it would be worse if I tried to stop him. He lied. There was never any accomplice, Jon.” Self-derision was leaking into her voice. “I let him use my fear to control me and too many women suffered because of it.”

 

He sat up and took her hand in his. “You know –”

 

“It wasn’t my fault, yeah. Logically, I know that. For most of it, I was a child and there was no way for me to know that he didn’t have a partner. I couldn’t investigate him with the guards always watching me. And I didn’t feel strong enough to really stand up to him until I met you and realized that I wasn’t on my own anymore.” She sighed and brought his other hand to rest over her heart. “It’s going to take longer for me to believe it here.”

 

His eyes softened. “I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever you need. I will never let  _anyone_ hurt you again.” His voice deepened in promise. “You’ll never have to be afraid of anything, not with me.” She pushed her back off of the bed to catch his lips with hers, bringing his lower lip into her mouth and her hand curling in the strands of hair at the base of his neck. She pulled back, running her nose along his.

 

“I know that. It’s part of why I love you so much.” Her hand slipped to his shoulder as she raised herself into his lap. His hands found the small of her back. “I have never felt safer than when I am with you, and I hope you feel the same. I would…” Her hands tightened. She would kill before she let someone touch him. “You can count on me,” she said instead.

 

Their lips met again, the kiss deeper than before. Breathing against her mouth, he said, “I already do."

 

-🐺-

 

Neither of them touched their phones after that first day. This time was for them.

 

Perhaps, it had always been in him to love her like this - to take her hand when she searched her fingernails for blood, to murmur the words of his nightmares to her in the dark, to touch her so sweetly, her eyes grew wet. It was there from the first. Only, now he wasn’t hesitant to show her the depth of his feelings. Only, now she let him.

 

Their languid kisses kept desire close. They made love until they collapsed onto each other, exhausted. They crawled into bed naked from their showers. They gorged on apples and watermelon when neither of them felt like cooking. Jon’s hair was perfectly mussed when he woke, but he brushed Sansa’s for her as hers did not artfully fall as his did.

 

Jon had a way about him that took every part she gave him with reverence. Yet, he was never overly careful with her. She did not feel as if he measured each word before he spoke. He gave himself to her fully without restraint, and she loved him more for it.

 

-🐺-

 

The danger may have passed weeks ago, but Sansa had been right: there was no easy fix, no way to wipe the slate clean from what Sandor had put them through. She needed time to heal from the trauma and, as they were only months into their marriage, they still needed time to acclimate to married life now that the business of everyday living was beginning. A faraway look would come over her face at times, and Jon would wait for it to pass, wishing that he’d been able to end this sooner. She was safe now, though, and as whole as she could be. She wouldn’t ever be the woman who trusts first without cause. In this business, maybe that was a good thing.

 

Sansa bounded down the stairs, balancing on one foot at its base to slip on her heel. “Too much?” she asked, straightening.

 

“You look beautiful.”

 

“Yeah? I don’t know. I feel weird showing up looking… happy? Put together? I don’t know. Clearly, they’ve both met me in the worst possible circumstances and I know it’s not like they’re meeting me to judge me. It will be fine but I can’t help thinking --”

 

“I think you should stop doing that,” he said, eyebrows raised and nodding.

 

“What?”

 

“Thinking.” The stress melted from her face to be replaced with bemusement. “At least for right now. You don’t have to impress them and even if you did,” he continued when she opened her mouth to argue, “you already have.” She smiled into his palm. “Besides, it’s our first date. I’m more nervous than you are. What if I don’t get a second?” he asked teasingly.

 

She slapped his chest and tsked at him but her eyes had lost their shadows. “You know if  _you_ impress  _me_ , I might even let you get past first base.”

 

Twenty minutes later, they sat at a table in Pynto’s waiting for their guests. She couldn’t help but still be nervous. Focusing on Jon helped. Big picture, how the dinner went didn’t matter as long as she was going home with him. It would hurt if they hated her, yes, but it isn’t as if she’d ever thought she’d even have the chance to do something like this. Just the extending of an olive branch now was enough.

 

She spotted them before they saw her. Gendry and Jeyne came out of the elevator first, his arm around her shoulders, and Myrcella and Tyene hand-in-hand following them. Sansa stood up and gave a little wave to catch their attention. Jeyne pointed Sansa out and the group made their way through the aisles toward their table.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sansa said, “I’m Sansa, and this is my husband, Jon.” She looked behind her where Jon stood, his hands on her shoulders lending her his support silently. She extended her hand first to Jeyne then to Myrcella. “It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for inviting us.”

 

Myrcella stared at her hand for a moment and quirked a brow. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?” She smiled, pulling Sansa into a surprising embrace.

 

“I guess we are,” she said, raising her own arms to curl around her.

 

“I’m not going to say I told you so but…” Jon murmured in her ear when Myrcella released her and hugs followed from Gendry, Tyene and Jeyne. Looking around at all of their open smiles, she couldn’t help the grin on her own face.

 

She had worries to be sure. Maybe she would always carry a bit of that needless guilt and shame from what had happened. Maybe she would always feel as if she ought to atone for not acting sooner, for being part of the reason these women had known they could survive past their breaking point. But for tonight, her mind wasn’t filled with any anxious thoughts.

 

With laughter resounding around the table and Jon’s face flush with mirth, alight eyes shooting to hers, Sansa felt such a hope for the present and future that she was completely unafraid.


End file.
